Trapped: Remy's Story
by JanieEvangeline
Summary: Sequel to Audacity. Remy is eighteen, carefree, and visiting Venice for an entire month. When she meets a mysterious, irresistible person and the tables of her life are dramatically turned, she starts on a selfquest...and loses herself along the way.
1. Introduction

Author's Notes: This is the sequel to my story Audacity, and I recommend you read it before this story so you'll know who's who and what's going on. The Remy in this story is the baby Remy and not Elaine's friend Remy, but I'm sure you've already figured that out for yourself.

This is rated Teen for mild violence and sexual scenes and discussion, along with swearing. You have been warned.

Enjoy! Comments, reviews, whatever are appreciated. And here we go again...

* * *

Remy was paging through a magazine she'd picked up at random, waiting, with growing impatience, for the plane to land. She didn't like how long it was taking; she was bored and ached for the comfort of a hotel bed, as the seat she was sitting in was rather hard and she wanted to sleep. Venice was a beautiful place, her parents had said, and she wanted to see it more than ever at this one second. Why, she wasn't sure.

She felt a sense of relief when the pilot's - or whoever it was, Remy had never been on a plane before and didn't know how these things worked - voice said that they were landing. Finally. This ride made her a bit sick to her stomach. Several minutes later, she was being pushed out of the door and down the stairs by a group of people getting off of the plane behind her. She stumbled a little, not having gotten her father's gracefulness, but one way or another, managed to get through the airport and onto the boat that would be bringing them all the rest of the way to Venice.

The boat ride seemed to last longer than the plane trip, but Remy didn't really mind. She looked out of the windows at Venice. It was exactly how she'd imagined it and how Elaine and Scipio had described it. A rush of...something flowed through her veins and Remy felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity came to her. The only time she'd ever been there was when she was barely a month or two old in Elaine's stomach, but even so, this place felt so much like home it was surprising.

Upon arriving in Venice, Remy slowly made her way down the street, looking for a vaporetto stop that would bring her to the hotel she was staying at for the next month. She remembered how Elaine had burst into tears at the airport, saying over and over again that she didn't have to leave, but Remy wanted to. She loved her friends and family more than she thought possible, but she was getting tired of her lackluster life. She wanted to do something with it, and going to Venice for her eighteenth birthday present, even if it was a few months late, was the perfect way to start this off.

Finally finding the vaporetto, Remy climbed on and looked around, hoping that she'd get off at the right stop. She did, and suddenly found herself out into the warm night once more. With slight difficulty, she managed, one way or another, to go down the street, luggage and all, without falling over like she usually did. The hotel was, surprisingly enough, not that crowded right now, and she checked in and went up to her room with no problems.

Remy wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep the rest of the night away, but Elaine had told her to call as soon as she arrived at the hotel, and Remy could imagine her now, sitting by the phone with a cup of tea and tapping her foot anxiously, Scipio awkwardly hovering in the background. She loved her parents, but they worried too much about her.

Remy had a bit of trouble calling her house, as it was out of the country, and had to briefly go back down to the lobby again for help. Once back in her room and listening to the phone ring, she twisted a strand of shoulder-length dark brown hair around her finger and yawned. It was late. Very late.

"Hello?" Elaine came from the other end after a minute.

"Hey Mom, it's me."

"Remy! Hi, baby!" blasted Elaine's voice, and Remy had to hold the reciever a few inches away from her ear to avoid getting her eardrums pierced. "How are you? Did the flight go well? Do you like Venice? Did---"

"Everything's fine, Mom. Venice is really nice."

"I know, isn't it? I remember when Scipio and I lived there. There was this one time that---" Remy yawned again and Elaine abruptly interrupted myself. "Oh, baby, I totally forgot how late it is over there. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Has Amelia called and bugged the hell out of you already?" she asked, referring to her best friend of several years.

"Yes, she has. She misses you already. So do I."

"I miss you too, Mom."

"Scipio wants to talk to you now. Good night, sweetie bug. I love you!"

"Love you too," replied Remy, and she heard some movement on the other end. Eventually, Scipio's deep voice came.

"Hey, Remy."

"Hi, Daddy."

"How are you liking Venice so far?"

"It's pretty cool. I like the boats and canals and stuff. Is it true that they dump city waste in the canals?"

"Apparently."

"Well, that's just...pleasant."

Scipio laughed. "I know how you feel." Then his voice became serious. "Remy, promise me that you won't go wandering around the alleys, especially at night. You don't know what kind of weirdos are out there."

Remy rolled her eyes, even though nobody could see her. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to go around at night shouting 'Hey!' to all the hoboes out here?"

"Remy."

"Okay, I promise."

"Good. Sweet dreams, Remy. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy." Remy put the reciever back and walked over to her suitcase, digging around for her nightgown, which she soon found. After putting it on and washing off her makeup, she opened the curtains on the window and looked out at Venice. The murky water was reflecting the moonlight as though it were a mirror, and a few boats floated by on it. Barely anyone was out and about, and the ones that were looked like tiny, moving ants. Remy smiled at the view and suddenly felt calm, calmer than she had in a long time. After a few minutes, she reluctantly closed the curtains again and turned off the light in the room. In the darkness, she barely managed to find her bed without crashing into anything, but, after feeling around with her hands, came in contact with something big and soft and lay down on what was hopefully her bed.

It was.

Remy buried her face in her pillow and sighed, only now realizing how tired she was. The long trip had worn her out, and she wasn't looking forward to the way back. But that wouldn't come for another month, Remy reminded herself with a smile. A whole month to have fun in Venice...

With that thought, her eyes forced themselves shut and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Author's Notes: So? What'd you think? Please leave a review; it'll only take a few seconds. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Thanks! This chapter came out longer than I'd planned for some reason, but oh well. The more, the merrier!  
I've got tests all this week, you guys, and I'll be pretty busy. Once it's all over, though, expect a nice, shiny update to come your way.  
Enjoy!  
And yes, the theatre Remy sees in this chapter is the Stella.

* * *

Remy knew it was a stupid thing to wander the streets alone at night - especially being a girl - but she couldn't help herself. Venice was enchanting, mysterious, a kind of home already, and she was determined to explore every inch of it before returning to London.

Living in London, she was used to the endless tourists and the constant feeling of no elbow room at all - exactly how it was in Venice. However, in London, everyone roamed the streets even at night, quite the opposite here. A single soul barely stirred outdoors, and the ones who did hurried past Remy with their heads down, a few muttering a quick "hello" or "good evening."

She passed by an old building and looked at it closely. There was a cardboard sign that most likely said "Stella", but a few letters were missing. Graffiti covered the walls, and, underneath the cardboard sign, someone had written in marker, so tiny it was barely noticeable, "Fuck you." She laughed and continued on her way.

There was a dark-skinned man ahead of her with slightly tangled black hair, who seemed to be muttering under his breath. After a while, he turned and walked into a club. Remy, having nothing better to do, followed him. There was a poster taped to the window, showing a picture of a group of young men sitting in an alleyway. _"Obsolete,"_ it said, _"playing Thursday night 10:00 P.M. to 11:00 P.M."_

Well, it couldn't hurt to check it out, could it? Besides, where there was a bar (and it said so on another poster in the left-hand window) there were chairs, and she was dying to sit down. Remy opened the door and walked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the darkness. It wasn't pitch black inside; some lights hanging in random places on the ceiling cast a blue light over everything. There was a stage, and the same band - Obsolete - were standing on it and talking to each other. On Remy's left side was the bar. The man she'd been following was sitting down on a stool, head slumped over, and the bartender was talking to him.

"What kinda trouble you been gettin' yourself into now?" he asked the man. "Every time you comin' in here, you're down in the dumps. What's happening now?"

"My momma," said the man, as the bartender slid a bottle towards him. "Her and her guy friend. Lil' sis finding her a mess tonight, beat and bruised. Had to take her to the doctor."

"Shoot, why ain't you doin' nothin' to him right now instead of drownin' your sorrows?"

"Coward done went and killed himself already."

"Oh," said the bartender. "Well, if he was still alive, you'd be out there kicking his ass, right?"

"Sure would. Good for nothing bastard..." The man continued to mumble to himself for a few more moments, and a slim young woman emerged from somewhere behind the bartender.

"You know, with all this talkin' you doin' about depressing stuff, you ain't even notice you got a customer," she said, looking at Remy. The bartender turned to the eighteen-year-old as well and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I sure ain't. Need anything? We've got---"

"Um, actually, I was just looking for a place to sit down," replied Remy, embarrassed.

"Then come sit down," said the woman, patting a stool with a manicured hand. Remy walked over to it and sat down. Noticing her expression, the woman quickly added, "Don't feel 'shamed or nothin'. We all need to sit down and rest every now an' then on our journeys. Where you from, anyway? I never seen you around here."

"London," Remy said truthfully. The woman and bartender gaped at her.

"London? How many trains you hopped on to get here?" the bartender asked.

"I didn't. I, um, flew."

"Flew? Geez, what I would give to live a life like that. Flyin' all around the place. Be Heaven on Earth, my opinion," said the woman. "Sheesh."

"Mmm-hmm," the bartender said to them. "There's so much trouble goin' on this days that you can't stop and take a second to think." He nodded towards the man, who was sitting with his head focused on his lap, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand. "See, folks keep gettin' 'emselves into things like this. Especially guys and their gals. Hittin' people and fightin' and havin' babies. Just one teensy-weensy mistake and everything's gone wrong."

The man suddenly jumped up, his bottle falling to the floor with a loud crash, the small amount of beer left spilling across the floor. "You callin' my momma a fool?!" he nearly shouted.

"Hey, settle it down, you two," said a voice from the stage.

The bartender held his hands up. "I ain't saying nothin' about your momma. Didn't call her no fool."

The man glared at the bartender for a second longer, and stormed out of the club. The bartender sighed, and picked up a nearby broom and dust pan, sweeping the glass off of the floor. The woman shook her head, long, black curls flying. "I swear, that Joshua," she said to no one in particular.

"If he keeps getting mad at people all the time, he'll get beat up before he can even blink," another voice said. Remy turned, and saw that the band had come from the stage and were sitting next to her. The one that had spoken had long, dark blonde dreadlocks and several tattoos.

"He can defend himself," said the woman. "Shoot, Ray, you actin' like he's a little puppy."

"He's not," said Ray. "But there are people out there a lot stronger than he is, and he needs to watch out. Just some water, Mark," he added to the bartender, who nodded and grabbed a nearby jug.

"So, where are you from again?" asked yet another voice politely from beside Remy. Turning to face the source, she saw a tall man around her age with dark hair casually styled into a layered cut, with ghostly pale skin and hazel eyes. His voice was pleasantly curious, but at the same time, sent shivers down Remy's spine.

"London," she answered after a moment of unconcious staring.

"London," he repeated slowly. "I've always wanted to go there. What's it like?"

"Basically just like here, except with no boats and canals and stuff. And there's a lot more people around at night."

He laughed, finding this amusing for some reason. "Oh, there's plenty of people around here during the night hours. You just have to look closely for them."

"Like who?"

"Well..." He considered her question carefully, turning his answer over in his head a few times. "People like the Thief Lord and his group. Stuff like that."

"Oh, the Thief Lord," said the young man next to Ray, rolling his eyes. Obviously, he'd been listening to their conversation. "Don't even get me started on that. I swear, every time I go anywhere these days, it's always talking about 'the Thief Lord this, the Thief Lord that.' I'm sick of it. Even if he is the stuff of legend. Well, was."

"Thing is, not too many people around here know what really happened," said the person sitting closest to Remy, turning back to her a second later.

"Who is the Thief Lord?" asked Remy, now genuinely curious.

"Well, I was only about two when it all happened so my dad told me about it, but supposedly he was the top thief around here. He had a group of orphan friends living in some abandoned theatre and he'd steal stuff for them so they could get by, you know. Then they found out that he was really a rich boy and all the stuff was stolen from his house. Apparently, he knocked up his girlfriend some time later and they left Venice, Italy, the face of the planet - I don't know. No one's seen him since."

"Hmm. And are there other...thieves around here?"

"Yeah. Don't be freaked out," he quickly added. "They won't do anything to you besides steal your stuff, and they like to go more towards big crowds in the daytime. Pickpocketing."

"Oh." Remy wasn't sure why she was so surprised. In a city this big, there was sure to be thieves lurking around. She'd even encountered them in London before at fifteen years old. There was no reason to think it was odd.

"So...what's your name?" he asked her after a moment of not talking. Remy looked back up at him from where she'd been studying her shirt.

"My name?"

"Yep."

"Um, it's Remy."

"I'm Dave. Well, my real name is David, but I'd prefer if you called me Dave." He held out his hand, and Remy shook it.

"Oh, is it time to introduce ourselves now?" asked the woman suddenly. "I'm Shatasia. This is Mark." She pointed first to herself, then to the bartender, who smiled sheepishly, and Remy suddenly noticed a thin ring on her finger. "These two---" She took a picture from the wall and held it up proudly. Remy saw two identical toddlers grinning out from it. "---are our two little girls, Valencia and Dashia. Aren't they the cutest things you ever seen?"

"They sure are," Remy agreed.

"They're at my momma's house right now. Valencia is real sweet, but Dashia is one heck of a troublemaker. Love 'em both to bits, though."

"And anyway, I'm Ray," said Ray, smiling slightly at Remy.

"And I'm Xavier," said the one next to him, shaking his carrot-red hair out of his eyes. "I'm Obsolete's bass player."

"Drummer," said Ray.

"Guitarist and lead singer," finished Dave for them, smiling. "Want to see us play?"

"I -- uh -- sure, I guess --"

"Let's go, you two," said Dave, jumping up before Remy could finish her response. He, Xavier, and Ray headed towards the stage again, and in the blink of an eye, were suddenly in the exact same positions they'd been in when Remy walked in: Dave at the front with a microphone and guitar in hand, Ray at the back with his drums, and Xavier standing a few feet ahead of him, strumming his bass lightly.

"Do they always jump around like that?" Remy asked Shatasia in a whisper as their first song begun.

She nodded. "Sure do."

The first song was something about someone being sad that their girlfriend had broken up with them and decided they didn't need her anyway - or something like that, Remy couldn't hear Dave clearly because there was something wrong with the sound system. Overall, though, she enjoyed it, and when it was over, clapped loudly along with Mark and Shatasia.

A few more people filtered in and out of the club, only coming in for a few minutes to buy something, perhaps listening to one of Obsolete's songs, and then leaving. There were two men who stayed there for an awfully long time, getting drunker by the minute. Mark looked pleased as he walked over to Remy.

"You're my good luck charm," he joked. "Ain't had this much business in months."

Later, Remy yawned and looked at the clock, and realized it was much later than she thought. If she wanted to get to the hotel before she fell over from exhaustion, she'd have to leave now.

"'Bye," said Shatasia as she walked away. "Good to meet you."

Remy nodded, and suddenly noticed something sitting on the bar. She dug around in her pocket for a minute, then pulled out some money and put it in the tip jar. Mark and Shatasia thanked her, and as Remy left, she felt a new pair of eyes on her. She turned around, but no one was looking at her. Shrugging, she stepped into the night once more and headed back to the hotel.

Little did she notice that Dave's gaze lingered on the door after her for a minute, and then flickered away again.


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Heh. I was going to make Elaine and Scipio tell her about the whole Thief Lord stuff, but I guess they weren't sure what her reaction would be when she learned that her parents were thieves and lived in a theatre. All she knows is that Elaine and Scipio moved from Venice to London shortly after Elaine became pregnant, but she doesn't think that the Thief Lord deal could be related to it in any way.  
Here's this chapter! It's freakin' long, and I don't know why. Can't I ever make a short update for once? Lol. Enjoy!

* * *

"Hmm..." 

Remy stroked her chin thoughtfully and gazed at the shelf of cheap souvenirs with a slight frown on her face, wondering which one she should get. There was nothing that looked particulary interesting, and the thick crowd of tourists around her was making it difficult to think with their never-ending chatter and noise. She finally gave up and moved to the postcard section, picking out one showing a boat on Venice's waters for her parents and another with a bunch of restraunts on it for Amelia. After paying for them as quickly as possible with the long line in her way, she left the store and wandered around aimlessly, feeling somewhat hungry. Of course it was the lunch hour (just her luck) and every restraunt in sight was packed to the brim with customers.

Remy was about to go to the nearest one and most likely least-crowded, from what she could tell, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. In panic, she whirled around and bumped into something, already planning an escape route, a loud scream, attack plan, something.

It was Dave. She hadn't seen him in two days and it took her a minute to recognize him.

"Oh, God," she said, taking in a deep breath. "You scared the hell out of me! I thought you were some kind of physco or something."

"I'm sorry," he said politely, a few strands of hair blowing into his face from the slight breeze. "I just noticed you walking around and I was wondering if you'd like to go to this cafe with me? I was just heading there, it's not that far away..."

"Oh, um, sure." Remy had a few doubts in the back of her mind, but quickly shrugged them away: what could it hurt?

_Nothing,_ she answered herself.

The cafe was only a couple of blocks down, and Dave and Remy made light talk the way there. When they arrived, Remy bought herself some cookies and a cup of soda. Dave insisted that he pay for it, but Remy rejected his offer as firmly and yet nicely as she could. After a short moment of arguing, Remy was the one who bought her things and Dave paid for his own food, a mutual agreement.

"So, how's...er...the band doing?" Remy asked him from across the table, having forgotten the band's name.

"Obsolete? We're doing fine. Not that many people have been coming by Mark's club as usual, but it seems that business is increasing, which is good. Oh, by the way, I've got something for you..." He dug around in his pocket.

"Something for me? What, were you walking around to give me something?"

"Nope." Dave handed her a blank CD case. When Remy turned it over, she saw scribbled on it somewhat untidily: Obsolete - These Little Lies (UNOFFICIAL). "It's a CD we made. I was actually going to give it to Ray because he keeps losing his copies, but you can have it. I'm sure I've got more somewhere."

"Thanks," said Remy. "You sounded really good Thursday night by the way."

"'One tries one's best,'" he quoted.

Remy slid the CD into her purse, and Dave leaned over the table slightly. "A few of my friends are having a little concert thing tonight at 9:00, if you're interested. It's at this club called Jonesi's. Know where that is?"

"Yeah."

"Well, anyway, they're really good. I'd think you'd like them. So if you're not busy or anything tonight, I suggest that you come. It'll be a lot of fun."

Remy looked into those hazel eyes of his and quickly down to her lap, blushing slightly. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

"So, what's he look like?"

Remy threw a pair of jeans down onto her bed, and then, on second thought, put them back into her suitcase, balancing the reciever between her shoulder and ear. What to wear, what to wear...

"Well, he's got really pale skin...these really nice eyes, kind of brownish-green...and dark hair. It comes almost down to his shoulder.

"He sounds hot," replied Amelia shamelessly.

"He is," Remy agreed.

"And you're going out now?"

"No! Too early for that. We just met, Amelia. But he invited me to this gig his friends are doing tonight."

"How do you know he wasn't asking you out?"

"He wasn't. I just know it, Amelia. He wasn't."

"Okay. Well, anyway, have fun tonight."

"I will. Thanks."

"I miss you so much, Remy. When are you coming back?"

"I told you already: a month."

"That's too long!" Amelia whined, as Remy finally decided on a dark blue and white striped shirt. "I'm gonna die without you here!"

"But you have college to get ready for. Shouldn't that---?"

"It's not the same. And you have to get ready for college too, while you're partying five million lightyears away from me--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Remy pulled out the jeans again, thinking that they weren't so bad after all. "Well, I'm gonna get ready now, Amelia. Love you and miss you."

"Love you too," responded Amelia glumly. Then her voice lightened considerably. "When you come back, though, I swear that you're going to spend every hour of your day at my house. I miss you!"

Remy laughed. "I will. 'Bye."

"'Bye, Rems."

Remy hung up the phone and quickly got dressed, running slightly later than she'd planned. After applying a quick, light amount of makeup, she examined her reflection in the mirror and wondered if Dave would think she looked okay. Then she mentally slapped herself.

_God, Remy, you're acting like he's your freaking boyfriend or something. Geez. Stop being so paranoid. You look fine._

And still she stood there, staring closely at her reflection and trying to find imperfections in it.

_This is pathetic._

With that thought, Remy blinked a few times, straightened her back slightly, and left the bathroom. After grabbing her purse and closing the door behind her, making sure that it was locked, Remy headed down the hallway and to the elevator.

* * *

"Remy!" cried out a soft, familiar voice the second she entered Jonesi's, and an arm placed itself around her shoulder. Dave grinned at her and lead her over to a table of men playing poker before she had time to think. She became aware of his arm sliding down to her waist, but strangely enough, it didn't bother her.

"This is Remy," he said to them, and they all looked up. Most of them looked at Dave's arm around Remy's waist and then up to Remy herself, looking slightly disinterested. "Remy, this is Jake, Mike, Budro, and Steve." He nodded at each person as he introduced them. Steve, she noticed, seemed slightly annoyed."

"Well, good to meet you, Remy," he said loudly, holding out his hand. "If you feel like you need anything from the bar, ask me. I'm real good friends with the bartender and I---"

"Yeah, sure, thanks, Steve," said Dave in a voice even louder, tightening his grip on Remy. "She'll be thinking about that." And so he simply drifted away, Remy barely managing to keep up with him.

"I'm sorry about that," he said apologetically once they were out of earshot and most likely sight of the four, letting his arm drop. "If they don't think I'm your boyfriend, they'll be all over the place with dumbass pickup lines and they'll bother you all night long, especially Steve. He'll steal a girlfriend from right under your nose."

"That's okay," she said, surprised to find that she wanted very much for him to put his arm back. "I understand."

"So..." Dave leaned against a wall and casually crossed his arms over his chest, looking around, and Remy just then noticed how crowded it really was. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a really nice club. When are your friends coming on again?"

"About..." Dave looked at his watch. "Five minutes from now. Come on, if you want to get a good spot before it's too late, we should go now." He lead her towards the stage and sat down at a small, circular table, and Remy sat next to him. The way he was always jumping around, moving, talking, doing something all the time confused her a bit, but she was starting to get used to it.

Remy had to agree with Dave - the band was very good. Many other people seemed to think so too, clapping loudly after each song, with some getting up to dance crazily with their friends laughing behind them. When it was all over, she found that she was not sleepy in the least bit, even though it was getting to be very late.

"You're not tired," Dave remarked once they were outside in the warm night again. It was not a question.

"Yeah. I'm not."

"Hmm. Well, in that case... I don't know what to tell you."

"You're a lot of help."

"I know I am," he said, grinning at her, and before she had time to blink, he'd swiftly pressed something into her hand. Remy gave him a confused look and glanced down, but Dave said quickly, "Read it when you get home. Er, to the hotel, I mean."

"What is this?"

"You'll see." Dave looked at his watch. "I'm sorry, Remy, but I've got to get up at five tomorrow because of my stupid job and I'd better---"

"That's okay."

"I hope you had a good time." Somehow, it sounded like a question, but was, at the same time, not.

"I did. Thanks for inviting me, Dave."

He smiled at her one last time and vanished. Remy tucked whatever it was in her hand in her pocket and walked in the opposite direction, back towards the hotel. A pigeon angrily squawked at her when she tripped over it, but otherwise there was little sound.

Remy passed by an alleyway with a small, flickering light at the end of it and walked towards the light to read the thing Dave had given her, taking it out of her pocket. It was a piece of paper, which, at first, Remy thought was written it Italian or some other language she didn't know because she couldn't make head or tails of it, but, turning it around, she saw that it was a map. It showed most of Venice, and Remy couldn't figure out why Dave had given it to her, unless he thought she was going to get lost. Or something.

She felt around in her pocket in case she'd missed anything, and pulled out some money and a note. Money? What was this all about? Remy's brow furrowed in confusion as she unfolded the note.

_Remy -_

_See Vanzetti Boulevard? They've got one hell of a of a theatre there, by which I mean a really big one. Tomorrow they're having a play, as usual, that you may or may not like. I don't know. It's some cheesy romance crap. Anyway, this is where I work, so if you get bored tomorrow, stop by and I'll get you in for free. If you're interested._

Remy was suddenly reminded of Steve.

_Besides, they charge way too much because of tourists and all. So like I said, if you're interested, it's at 3:00 in the afternoon tomorrow._

_(Possibly) See you then -_

_Dave_

_P.S. The money is for if I suddenly go into a coma or am abducted by aliens and don't turn up at work tomorrow. Just in case._

Remy snorted at the bit about aliens, barely stifling a giggle. What a lunatic. But a sweet one.

A play tomorrow, huh? Interesting. Very interesting. She re-read the note and a question came to mind: Was he asking her on a date? But that was stupid, insanely stupid, because he'd be working during the play, and how could it be a date then? Anyway, they'd just met, and Remy doubted that he was interested in her. Nope, not a date.

But even then, this was the second time he'd invited her somewhere. What if this was going to become routine? What if he'd keep asking her to go places and one day asked her out as a date and---

_You are being an idiot, Remy. Idiot. Stop getting so ahead of yourself. God._

Even so, Remy glowed at the thought that Dave - or anyone, really - could be interested in her, boring, plain old her. She grinned as she shoved everything back into her pocket and walked away, only to run smack into the wall.

"Damn it," she said under her breath, gingerly feeling her nose. It did not seem to be broken, but all the same, it hurt. Remy took a few steps backward and looked at the wall. It was the building supposedly called the Stella, and she wondered how she'd managed to end up here again. There was a piece of paper taped to the door that she did not notice as she walked off. She should have turned around and looked at it, but she had no idea how important what it said was to her and therefore did not.

There was a ringing in her ears, but it wasn't annoying at all. It sounded more like bells. She smiled and hummed a song the band at Jonesi's had played as she wandered away, snapping her fingers.

A shadow emerged from behind her, and then slunk off away into the night.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hmm, mysterious...Does Dave like Remy? What did the note say? Who is that shadow? Find out in the next episode of Trapped!  
I'm such a retard. Anyway, I hope you liked the update. Leave a review and I'll love you forever and ever and ever and ever. And ever. Haha. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Well, that was one crazy Christmas I had! And to top it all off I ended up spending two entire days and a half in the hospital because of a kidney stone! Eee. Talk about painful. Luckily I've mostly recovered but man, that was NOT fun.  
I'm getting a ton of ideas concerning what to do with this story, and I still haven't decided which route to take yet. Hmmm. I may have to change the rating of this story to Mature, but then again, I may not. It depends where I end up going with this story.  
This update may be a little confusing at first, so let me clear things up: this is not the next day when Dave invited Remy to see the play. This is a week later and Remy is waiting on Dave to show up at the beginning, not trying to kill time before the play.  
By the way, the song Remy is singing in this chapter is crushcrushcrush (yes, it's supposed to be spelled like that) by Paramore. And no, she didn't really lose her key.  
In summary, I hope you had a good holiday! Have a great New Year too! Wooo-hooo! 2008! It's less than an hour and a half away where I live.

Now back to our usual scheduled madness.

* * *

Remy looked anxiously at her watch for the third time in the past two minutes and felt her jiggling knee run into one of the table's legs. 5:46. Dave had said he'd be here at 5:40; what was the holdup? But she shouldn't be too punctual, as he had said that he had things to do and could run a little late. Even so, she couldn't help but wonder what was happening and if he was alright.

Looking around the street and sipping on a soft drink, Remy noticed an old man nearby with several short women at his side, helping him walk. The old man had a number of wrinkles and gray hairs, and a frown that never went away. He kept barking at the women and complaining loudly; Remy heard him say, "All these tourists trashing the place up, it's a disgrace!" He looked very familiar, though Remy was positive she'd never met such an unpleasant person before. It had to be his dark eyes, though they seemed somehow different than her thoughts were consisting of.

"Hey, you," said a voice from behind her, and Remy let out a sigh of relief as he slid into the seat in front of her. "What's up?"

"What took you so long?"

"You mean what took me six more minutes than you expected?"

"Dave."

"Okay, okay. I was busy doing...stuff."

"Stuff? What kind of stuff?"

"Robbing banks, going to Mars, shaving off all of my hair. You know, the usual."

Remy snorted. "The usual? So, apparently, on a daily basis, you steal money, hijack rocketships, and become bald?"

"Sure do."

"Hmm. And you know what I think about that?"

"What?"

"You're a retard on stilts."

"Why thank you, madam," said Dave, incling his head slightly.

Remy listened to the old man still complain somewhere nearby and asked, "What's his problem?"

"Who's?"

"That old guy over there."

Dave turned around in his seat and back to Remy again. "Oh, him? That's Dottore Massimo. He's always in a bad mood. Don't ask why, I don't know myself."

_Massimo?_ Remy raised an eyebrow at the mention of her surname.

"Is Massimo a pretty common last name around here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing." She searched her brain for another topic of conversation. "Anyway, I'm hungry."

"Congratulations. Are you saying we should go eat somewhere?"

"No duh, Sherlock. Now let's go to some restraunt." Remy stood up, smacking her hand on the table in the process. Dave noticed her wince and pinch her hand and said,

"Remy, you are the clumsiest person I know." Indeed, she was always tripping, running into something, or falling over. She seemed to be blind when it came to poles especially, getting her nose banged up all the time.

"And you are the ugliest person I know," she said back mockingly. "And most annoying."

Dave grinned at her as he walked down the street at her side. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

"You're such a shit stirrer, Dave."

"And the nicest one you'll ever meet," he replied. "Who's paying for your dinner again, Remy?"

"Like I said: you're an annoying retard."

"And you love me for it."

"Sure don't." Remy smiled over at him jokingly. She knew the light lie behind her words, and Dave did, too. As the two made their way down the street in the setting sun, Dave reached over slightly and held her hand, wondering if she'd reject his advances.

She didn't.

* * *

Across town, a small group of teenagers stood in an alley, talking among themselves with an air of wonder, dread, and curiosity in their low tones, all mixed together at once. Their ragged clothes which desperately clung to their thin frames reflected the unfortunate lives they lead. Tonight was a special night for them, or at least, it would be if the rumors they were discussing were true.

"So he's back?" a girl with long, tangled carrot-red hair whispered, looking at one of the boy's faces, the one who'd spoken most recently. It did not need to be whispered for no one else was nearby and even if they had been, it wouldn't have been of any importance to them, but she felt like it was something to be whispered. "The Thief Lord is back?"

"He himself isn't back, or at least nobody has any evidence to say so," responded the boy with a slight roll of his eyes, chewing on his lower lip, which was covered in crisscrossing scars. "I've told you that a million times."

"Shut up," she snapped back.

"But how does anyone know she's his daughter?" another boy asked from where he was busy picking dirt off of his jeans. "We don't know her name, right? And just because she looks like him doesn't mean she's his daughter. Geez."

"You know his dad, Dottore Massimo? She's his granddaughter."

"And how do you know?" asked the girl.

"Library," the boy with the scarred lower lip responded smugly. "I had my suspicions, and I went to check out their family tree."

"You're a dork."

"Shut the hell up."

"Does he even know?"

"Know what?"

"That she's here."

"No. Shit, he doesn't even know he has a grandkid."

"Oh."

There was a second of silence, and the boy picking dirt off of his jeans broke it: "So does this mean that there's another kind of Thief Lord going around?"

"I don't know. There hasn't been much stealing lately besides pickpocketing and stuff, according to the newspaper. But it's possible..."

Again, there was more silence as each person thought over this. The Thief Lord, even exposed as a fraud, was still considered a kind of legend. If his daughter was in Venice, that meant that things were going to drastically change for the thieves living on the street. But then again, why would she need to steal if her father was rich?

"I don't think she's a thief," said the girl. "She can't be."

"Yeah, you're right," the boy with the scarred lower lip agreed quickly, not admitting, even to himself, that he had begun to worry slightly that, if she was a thief, she would probably be a competition impossible to beat. There was no reason for anxiety. No reason at all.

* * *

What seemed like hours later, Remy stumbled out of the restraunt and giggled drunkenly as her vision flickered in and out of focus. Dave followed her with a frown on her face, smelling the strong stench beer on her breath and wrinkling his nose.

"Remy!" he scolded. "What did I tell you? What? I said don't drink anything! And now look at you!"

"Who cares?" she replied loudly, grinning and dancing around to the music the band inside was doing a cover to, nearly falling over. "Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone...Just the...something something...just counting on..." she sang, high-pitched and rather off-key, pausing at the parts she didn't know. Dave shook her head.

"Remy, let's go," he said, grabbing her wrist and attempting to lead her in the direction of her hotel. Remy stayed put.

"Dave! Come on! I wanna stay!" she whined.

"Well, you're not going to," he said, letting go of her wrist and crossing his arms over his chest, meeting her glare with one of his own. Remy eventually looked down, and then back up.

"Go away," Remy said. "I'm staying right here and you can't make me g----WHOA!" Dave had picked her up and was now carrying her down the street. "Dave, lemme go! Let me go!"

"No," he responded simply.

"If you don't let me go I'll---"

"Remy, shut up. We're almost there; it's not that far away."

"You shut up."

Dave ignored her constant stream of complains and brought her all the way to the hotel, sitting her up against the wall. "Good night," he said cheerfully and walked away, Remy glaring at the back of his head. He felt a pair of eyes on him and turned around to see her with her arms crossed over her chest angrily.

"Remy. Do I have to bring you to your room?" he asked as he approached her.

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

Nevertheless, Dave dragged her up to her room by the hand and, standing in front of the doors, went through her pockets. Remy didn't help him try to find the key; she still had her arms crossed over her chest and was staring at the door furiously enough to burn a hole in it.

"Remy, where's your key?"

"I don't know."

"Is it in your purse?" he asked, glancing at it from where it hung from her shoulder. He didn't think it was very polite to go through someone's purse, but if it came down to it...

"No. It's not. It's not anywhere. It vanished."

"Remy---"

"I don't know what happened!" she screamed at him hysterically; Dave was beginning to learn that she was very emotional when drunk.

"Okay. Okay, Remy. Double-check everything. And backtrack. Where did you last see it?"

"Dave?"

"What?"

"Can I go to your house? Pleeeease?"

"Uh...are you sure you want to?" Dave was skeptical about this.

"I'm sure! Pretty please, Dave? I'll love you forever and ever and ever!"

"You---"

"Great!" she exclaimed, already barreling down the hallway. Dave shook his head again and went after her.

They walked down streets, Dave's arm around Remy's shoulders to keep her from falling, while Remy happily yapped on and on about some romance novel she'd read lately. Her hair kept getting in her face, to her annoyance, and she eventually stated that one day she would cut off every inch of it.

"There's no need for that," Dave said, tucking it behind her ear. "See? Much better now."

They had arrived at his house, an apartment several blocks away. Dave lead her in and closed the door behind them, fumbling around for the light switch as they walked into total darkness. "Sorry about that," he said as it flickered on. Remy had been expecting it to look as though a tornado had blown through, the typical bachelor house, but it was surprisingly neat. Definitely a male abode, but tastefully decorated.

"Okay, so you can sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch," he said, sitting her down on his bed once they reached his room. He thought she must be awfully uncomfortable with the slightly too-tight skirt she had on and dug around his closet, finally coming up with a pair of sweatpants.

"You can wear these---" he began, but she interrupted him.

"Dave? I gotta go to the bathroom."

He blinked at her. "Oh. Um. Bathroom's first door to the right. The green one."

Remy stood up and ran out the door, leaving Dave alone, holding the sweatpants. He set them down on the bed and waited for her to come back. After a minute, a door in the hallway opened, closed, and there was a the sound of Remy crashing into something. "Shit!" she said, probably loudly enough to wake the neighbors. "Damn wall."

Dave walked into the hallway and saw her rubbing the side of her face, which was slightly pink. "Let's get you to bed." He helped her back into the bedroom and said for the second time, pointing to the sweatpants, "You can wear these tonight."

"Okay," said Remy, picking up the pants, and Dave left, closing the door behind him. A short while later she opened it again, now in his sweatpants, with her skirt strewn on a chair behind her.

"Well, goodnight," he said as she climbed onto the bed and under the covers. "I'll be right down the hall if you need anything, okay?"

"Mmmm," replied Remy, already nodding off to sleep. Dave looked at her for a minute and then turned off the ceiling light. Then he exited the room and tip-toed down the hallway, listening to her soft, even breathing.


	5. Chapter 4

Yay 2008! And I'm on page...138 of This Lullaby. Hahaha. Funny how that happens, isn't it?  
This chapter was inspired by "Forever Love (Digame)" by Anna Nalick. I strongly suggest you listen to it. It fits in the mood really well.  
Enjoy! I think you all have been waiting for this for a while now...

* * *

Remy would have loved to sleep later, but the sun glaring into her window had a different idea: "_Blind her, then make sure she stays awake!"_ She sat up rubbing her eyes and sleepily looked around. When she didn't recognize her surroundings, she started to panic, and after noticing her skirt on a nearby chair, her eyes widened in horror. 

_Oh my God, what happened last night?_ she thought.

Remy realized she had on clothes, though she was wearing an unfamiliar pair of sweatpants, and felt slightly more at ease. Well, maybe..._that_ really hadn't happened. Maybe.

She felt like her forehead was going to burst with the throbbing headache she had and felt slightly nauseated. This sucked. Remy stood up and things went black for a moment; she held onto the chair with her skirt on it until her vision cleared up. What in the world was going on? She didn't remember a thing from last night. Not a good sign.

After stumbling out of the room and down the hallway, crashing into what seemed to be thin air a number of times, she became aware of a delicious smell. Remy wandered into the kitchen, where Dave was making pancakes. Upon seeing the sight of her, he said cheerfully, "Good morning."

"Ugh." Remy sat down at the table and yawned. "W-What happened?"

"You got really drunk last night and insisted on coming here," replied Dave, putting a glass of water and some Tylenol in front of her. Remy just looked at him. "What?" he asked.

"Oh...it's just that...nothing. Nothing important." Remy swallowed the pill, washing it down with the water, and looked at the room around her. Pictures covered every inch of the walls, of Obsolete, concerts of bands Remy had never heard of before, people she'd never met, all clad in ripped jeans with dyed black hair, and endless, endless animals. One picture in particular caught her eye: it showed a girl with dark blonde hair and way too much makeup. Remy would have said she was pretty, but there was something about her smug expression that made her think not.

"Who's that?" she asked, pointing to the picture, as Dave came by with two plates of pancakes, putting one in front of Remy and the other in front of the chair beside her, which he slid into shortly afterwards. Dave glanced at the picture and replied,

"My sister."

"Oh." She didn't look anything like Dave, with her hair colored so lighter than his own and crystal eyes. "She's pretty," Remy lied.

"Mmm."

It took Remy a while to finish her breakfast, as she feared that it would soon all come back up if she ate too fast. She put the plate in the sink when she was done, mimicking Dave, and groaned in pain as her head suddenly hurt all over again. Stupid headache.

"God, this sucks," she said, sitting down once more and closing her heads, putting her head in her hands.

Remy heard Dave move around, and then he was playing his guitar and singing loudly: "She's got the hangover from Hell and she's not feeling too swell...Ooh bop ah doo bop...And at me she's glaring daggers and...um...oh God...dog's tails go waggers---"

"Dave! Shut---" Remy stopped talking to laugh at the silliness of his lyrics. "Oh my God, you retarded idiot."

"And now Remy's calling me a retard," Dave sang even louder, "or maybe I'm a dumbass bard who can't can't think of lyrics to save his life! Or get himself a wife..."

Remy was now rolling around in her chair, barely able to breathe from the constant laughing.

"Hot potato, hot potato...hot potato, hot potato...hot potato, hot potato...potato, potato, potato, potato!"

"Oh my God, you still watch the Wiggles?"

"Cold spaghetti, cold spaghetti..."

"Okay, okay, stop before you make me die laughing." Indeed, Remy was still having trouble breathing, still laughing her head off.

"Alright, I will." Dave sat there and grinned at her. "I'm a beautiful musician, aren't I? Totally the next Jonathan Davis."

"Sure are, singing about potatoes. Pure genuis, that's what it is! Pure genuis, I tell you!" As her lightheaded mood slowly died down, Remy began to think of her skirt on that chair again and wondered, once more, if anything had happened. Now was the awkward part, though: asking Dave about it.

"Uh...er...Dave? Can I ask you something?"

"You just did. But go ahead."

"Um...well...uh...last night..." God, this was so embarrassing. "Did we sleep together?" she blurted out.

Dave looked at her, confused, and slowly understood what she was asking. "What? Oh! Oh, no, of course not! Nothing like that happened."

"Oh, um, okay, good. I...don't remember what happened last night and I was kind of just...you know. I needed to be sure."

"Yeah, I understand. Well...er...you know that I'd never do something like that without you being totally sober, right? Because otherwise it's just _wrong_."

"Uh, yeah." It was so awkward to be talking about this in the pale yellow light of Dave's kitchen, and Remy could feel her cheeks turning slightly pink. Well, that was good to know anyway, no matter how embarrassing this conversation may be.

There was silence.

"Well, anyway, I'm going to go change back into my clothes," said Remy, standing up, desperate to get out of here. She nearly ran out of the room and down the hallway, into Dave's room, and changed into her skirt. It was a relief to get back into the familiar piece of clothing, and she felt slightly more at ease.

Remy went back into the kitchen and said, "Well, uh, I guess I'm off." She wanted to stay, but she didn't want to overdo her visit.

"You're leaving already?" asked Dave, and she was happy to hear he was sad to see her go.

"Yeah. But don't worry, I'll see you soon. Um. When's Obsolete playing next?"

"Mark's place again, tonight at ten."

"I'll be there."

"See you then. 'Bye, Remy."

"Good-bye, Dave."

Remy had almost reached the front door when Dave said carefully from behind her, "Oh, and Remy? There's...um...one more thing..."

"Sure." Remy turned around, and suddenly he was standing right there, so close. "What is it?"

"I..." Dave trailed off and shook his head slightly. "That's not important. But what is important is what you think of...this."

When he took her in his arms, she didn't see it coming. It was like a flash of light, happening so suddenly that the moments that followed were nothing less than surreal. Remy's eyes grew wide, but she was just beginning to realize that this was what she'd wanted all along.

Without another moment of hesitation, Dave leaned down slightly, Remy stood up as tall as possible, and their lips met.

* * *

"Oh my God! Holy shit! I can't believe it! He kissed you?" shrieked Amelia from the other end of the telephone.

"Yes! Yes, he did! It's great, isn't it?"

"Great? Great? Hell, woman, this is a lot more than great! That was your friggin' first kiss! This is your first boyfriend! Celebrate!"

"I know, I know! And his band just performed and when I went to see them he asked me out! He said, 'Remy, I really like you as much more than a friend and I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me. As a couple.'"

"And what did you say?" Amelia asked breathlessly.

"Yes, duh! Of course, Ray had to ruin the moment with this Godawful vocal solo bullshit he had going on and just about killed our eardrums, but everything before that was great! Dave is the most amazing person ever."

"Well, in my opinion, it's a bit too early for 'I love you,' even if you already feel like that. But congratulations, Remy, really. Just be careful not to get your heart broken."

"I won't."

Amelia then hung up because she was rather busy and Remy ran around the room like a small child, unable to contain her excitement. She jumped on the bed, she sang, she danced. Remy had never felt so alive, never felt so...wanted. Of course she'd gotten plenty of attention from boys before, having recieved her parents' good genes, but this was the first time she'd like the boy in return.

And it felt wonderful.

* * *

Author's Notes: By the way, the song Dave was singing is "Hot Potato" by the Wiggles. Lol, I couldn't help myself. Though I don't know if it's "cold spaghetti" or "go spaghetti"...? Yeah. Whatever, haha. Review, please!


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: Thank you for reviewing everyone! The Hot Potato part just randomly came into mind and I was like, "I HAVE to write that in." Hahaha. And InkySubstance, I like Remy too. She's probably one of my favorite characters that I've created. Ever.  
This chapter is...nothing impressive. It's kind of like a filler, really, and it moves fast, but it hits down on most of the whole "Thief Lord" part of this story. As usual, enjoy!

* * *

The night was extremely warm, and Remy was grateful for the fact that she'd decided to wear a short-sleeved shirt and capris to Ray's house. Obsolete had been practicing and writing new songs for the previous two hours, and Dave, always the gentleman, had invited her to come along with him to Ray's house. It turned into an argument over what ryhmed with what and Ray and Xavier had eventually stalked off into their rooms, fed up with each other. Dave had turned to Remy and said, rolling his eyes, "Every time we get together, this happens. Either that or whose turn it is to buy beer. Now they'll sit in their rooms all night and glare at the wall." He apologized and Remy decided it was time to leave at that point, since it was getting later and later anyway and she didn't want to walk back to the hotel half-asleep.

Plenty of times she had roamed the streets at night, but it was only this time that Remy felt a little...odd as she felt a pair of eyes on her. Not exactly scared, but certainly not comfortable, either. She turned around and, even though no one was there, quicked her pace.

A hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, and she barely managed not to scream. A teenage boy of maybe 16 was grinning at her. His clothes were tattered and dirty, and his teeth were yellow and rather grimy. "Got you now, girlie," he said, slapping a hand over her mouth and dragging her towards a nearby alleyway.

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God_...Remy remembered Scipio's words from her first night in Venice: _"You don't know what kind of weirdos are out there."_ He'd been right. Why hadn't Remy just asked Dave to bring her back? Now look at where she was. Remy attempted to fight off the boy, but failed: he was much stronger than she was.

"My God, you're scaring the shit out of her," said a voice from the darkness, and a girl around the same age of the boy emerged out of seemingly nowhere. She flipped her red hair over her shoulder and said, "Let go of her before she has a freakin' heart attack."

"No," said the boy, roughly holding her closer to him. He smelled bad, like sweat and mud, and Remy wrinkled her nose. Gross.

"Yeah, well, whatever you want," the redhead replied with a shrug, and turned to a spot behind her. "Daniel!" she yelled. "Get your ass over here!"

"My name isn't Daniel, dammit, I've told you that before. It's---" said an annoyed voice, as another boy appeared, only to be interuppted by the girl:

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

He glared at her, but when he caught sight of Remy, his mood lightened considerably. "You got her," she said. "Good." He walked up to her until their faces were inches apart, and Remy noticed that he had several scars on his lower lip. "What's your name?" he leered at her.

"That's none of your business."

"Stubborn, aren't you? Just like your father."

"You don't know my father. Now shut up and let me go."

"Of course I know your father," he replied. "Everyone around here does. Scipio Massimo. Thief Lord. Has he been telling you the same shit he fed everyone else around here?"

How does he know my dad's name? Remy didn't answer him and struggled to get out of the grip instead. Then the Thief Lord suddenly rang a bell: Dave, telling her about him the night they'd met: _"...supposedly he was the top thief around here. He had a group of orphan friends living in some abandoned theatre and he'd steal stuff for them so they could get by, you know. Then they found out that he was really a rich boy and all the stuff was stolen from his house. Apparently, he knocked up his girlfriend some time later and they left Venice, Italy, the face of the planet - I don't know. No one's seen him since."_ The Thief Lord. Why was this boy saying that Scipio was the Thief Lord?

Wait a second. _I became pregnant with you in Venice, Italy, and then Scipio and I moved here,_ Elaine's voice was saying.

_"...Apparently, he knocked up his girlfriend some time later and they left Venice, Italy, the face of the planet - I don't know. No one's seen him since."_

Could it be possible?

"...and tell him to stay away from here if he knows what's good for him," the boy was saying. "Or else he'll sorely regret it."

Scipio's boldness was starting to show through Remy as she angrily responded, "Who the hell do you think you are to say that kind of shit to me? I'm not scared of you, and neither is my dad. Fuck off."

This was the wrong thing to say. The person holding Remy tightened their grip on her wrist and started to twist her arm. It was very painful, and tears sprouted in Remy's eyes. Instinctively, she bit down on the hand in front of her mouth, which dropped as a bit of blood popped up. Remy let out a long, loud scream and what she was aiming for finally happened: the person holding her let go of her for a split second to readjust their hold and make it stronger, and she ran away, faster than she could ever remember. Remy could hear voices behind her and, panicked, took a sudden turn to try and throw them off. Apparently it worked: their footsteps fell behind and she darted up the street again, relieved when she saw her hotel come into view. She'd completely forgotten about it being there.

Once in her room, Remy locked the door and shut the curtains on the window, realizing that she was being ridiculous seconds later; there was no way they'd known where she went, much less that they would be able to break into her room. But still, better safe than sorry. Then she sat down on her bed and attempted to calm herself down by taking big gulps of air. Unfortunately, she'd inherited some of Elaine's anxiety disorder, which made her even more worked up. Remy buried her face in her pillow and cried, feeling pathetic, but wanting to relieve her fear. That had to be one of the scariest things she'd ever gone through.

A few minutes later, she sat up, sniffling, and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. Remy quickly pulled it away when she felt pain shoot through her arm, and she remembered what had happened to it. She gingerly turned her hand over, shielding the mascara smudged on it from view, and examined her arm. There was a large red spot in the shape of a hand on it that felt like it was on fire, though it was probably the muscle more than the skin. Well, this sucked.

After digging around in the drawer next to her bed and sifting through endless advertisements and hotel stationary, Remy came across a small plastic bag. She had a container of ice that she'd gotten from the machine down the hall the previous day and put it in the bag, pressing it against the sore spot, hoping that the swelling would go down. Eventually it did, and she threw away the bag when the ice began to melt.

Any other day, Remy would have stayed up to think about the Thief Lord and if he could possible be Scipio. But tonight, she was tired, with barely enough energy to crawl under the covers and cry herself into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Remy stayed in the hotel room all day long the next day, scared that if she went out she'd be ambushed again, even though she knew that was stupid. Mainly she drifted in and out of sleep and read books she'd brought along from London, though she couldn't concentrate on a single word in them.

When night fell, though, she began to think about the Thief Lord. What were the possibilities that could make Scipio this legendary thief? Well, for one, Dave had said that he'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant and they'd moved away from Venice. Elaine had become pregnant here and left to go to London. And that was pretty much it, unless the fact that Scipio rarely talked about his past counted.

However, how could it be possible that the boy had known Scipio's name? Something was definitely up here. This place just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Remy dialed her parents' phone number and listened to it ring for a while, tapping her foot on the floor to some bouncy pop tune coming from the television. "Hello?" said Elaine's voice after a while.

"Hey Mom."

"Remy! Oh, hi, baby! How _are_ you? Are you alright? Do---"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. Actually, I was calling to talk to Dad. No offence or anything."

"Oh, none taken," said Elaine, though she sounded slightly disappointed. "Well, give me a minute to get him." There was a bit of noise in the background, and Remy heard Elaine say something to Scipio.

"Hello Remy," he said cheerfully.

"Hi, Daddy. Um, I was wondering if..." Remy glanced down at her fingernails, wondering how she was going to phrase this. "Err, today, I heard some people talking about some type of gang of thieves that used to live here or something...it sounded pretty interesting, and I just wanted to know...umm..."

Well, there was no point beating around the bush any longer when Remy wanted so badly to know the answer. So she simply blurted out, "Were you the Thief Lord?"

* * *

Author's Notes: Okay, so the reason those teenagers were being jerks is because they all thought they were the top dog around the thieving area and felt intimidated by Remy. As you know, intimidation is insecurity, and they were trying to hide it by acting like tough stuff to Remy. Scaring her was their point. And yes, they were the same teenagers from the chapter before the previous one.

Please review! Yeah, I hate cliffhangers too, haha. I'm so evil.


	7. Chapter 6

Author's Notes: Well, if you guys like them so much, the thieves may appear again. (; Thanks for the reviews, everyone!

Warning: This chapter is full of awesome.

* * *

"It's just that he never, ever told me any of this," Remy complained, adding a final layer of nail polish to her index fingernail and closing the bottle. "And I have to practically get mugged for him to finally tell me anything about his past. I mean, what is this? He should have known I wouldn't think he was weird or anything. _God._"

"Well," Dave began, "maybe he didn't tell you because he thought that you might not---"

"I just said that I wouldn't care!" Remy exclaimed. "But no, he has to go and not say anything and leave me to..." Her voice faded away and turned to low grumbling under her breath, and she sighed after a minute. "Okay. I know that I'm probably being angrier than I should be right now, but I'm just kind of pissed right now. You know?"

"Mmm-hmm," said Dave, though he really didn't.

They were sitting on one of the beds in Remy's hotel room and discussing what Scipio had told his daughter over the phone the previous night. It took an awful lot of arguing and "Come on, Daddy, you know you can tell me anything"s to get the truth out of him, but finally, Remy had discovered it. He told her about how Mosca, Riccio, Hornet, Prosper, Bo, and Elaine stayed in the Stella ("The Stella?" Remy asked. "Really? I've been by there!") and how they, especially himself, stole to get by. He went on about how Elaine became pregnant with Remy and that he told him the truth, that he really stole from his father's house. Then they moved to London and, as they say, the rest is history. The entire time, Remy's mouth had been slightly open with awe at her father's stories of breaking into houses in the middle of the night. It was like a kind of fairytale; she could barely believe it was real. Scipio was not proud of the things he'd stolen and people he'd upset, he admitted, but he had friends to help get by and anyway, there was a certain thrill about being the Thief Lord. Now, Remy had just repeated all of it to Dave, and here they were.

"That's really amazing," Dave thought aloud. "I mean...God. The fact that the Thief Lord, the actual Thief Lord, is your dad is just..." He shook his head. "He's considered legend around here, even through everything that happened and all this time. Seriously, I can't believe it."

"I can't either," Remy agreed. "I think that---"

Dave suddenly glanced down at his watch and slapped his forehead. "Shit! I'm late!" he said loudly.

"For what?"

"This dentist's appointment...I'm sorry, Remy, but I really have to go---"

"That's okay," she said, though she wasn't really feeling that way. "I understand."

"We can talk more about this later," Dave said, standing up. "You have my phone number, right?"

"Yep."

"Okay. 'Bye, Remy."

"'Bye," Remy replied, leaning up to give him a hug as he gave her cheek a quick kiss. "I bet he'll find twenty cavities," she joked.

"I bet he will." And just like that, he was gone. Remy sat there and wondered what she was going to do now. There was always just exploring Venice - even though she only had one more week here, in the last three, she'd barely seen any of this huge city. Remy wasn't really in the mood for sightseeing right now, however. She still felt like her head was swimming from everything Scipio had told her last night, but it was more like a puzzle in her head, one she had gone over and over and over, the last bits and pieces still yet to be found and put together, solved at last.

But what could she do? What was there to do when you were feeling this way? Was---?

Remy jumped up suddenly, knowing what she was going to do, what she had to do. Of _course_. This had probably been at the back of her mind the entire time, she realized, but only surfaced now.

After throwing on the first pair of shoes she could find, Remy darted out of the room and down the hallway, reaching the elevator just in time, seconds before the doors closed. Once reaching the lobby, she walked as quickly as possible towards the door before she realized that she didn't have directions to where she was going.

"Excuse me," she said to the lady at the front desk, who was chewing gum and looking bored, "do you have a phonebook I can borrow for a minute?"

She nodded, pulling out one and handing it to Remy, who thanked her and went to sit on a rather uncomfortable armchair. Remy flipped through the pages at an incredible speed until she finally found what she was looking for, relieved that she knew where the street was. She returned it to the lady at the front desk and practically ran out of the hotel and down the next few streets, stopping briefly to catch her breath. Then she was off again.

The house was huge and very expensive-looking, but Remy had no time to admire it as she flew up the stairs - tripping over one, of course - and knocked on the door with the brass knocker. Now it was just time to hurry up and wait.

"What do you want?" a plump woman with an apron on asked after opening the door and looking down at Remy. She had an upturned nose and a rather impatient expression on her face.

"The Dottore's granddaughter has something very important to discuss with him," Remy replied, not liking this woman already.

"The Dottore doesn't have a granddaughter."

"That's what he thinks, but I really do exist."

"The Dottore doesn't have a granddaughter," the woman insisted, starting to close the door.

"Yes he does! I swear to God that he does!" Remy said loudly, pushing the door open again. "Look up the kid of Elaine Vieri and Scipio Massimo, you'll see me, Remy---"

"Fine then," snapped the woman, opening the door and shutting it behind Remy with a loud _slam!_ "The Dottore is busy right now," she said to Remy's back as the eighteen-year-old looked around the high-ceilinged room. "He has a meeting, but he should be done in just a few minutes---"

"That's fine. Um, can I go look around a little?"

"No. We don't want you..._damaging _anything."

"I won't."

"Well, we cannot allow---"

"What?" came a voice, and another, kinder-looking woman stepped into the room. She looked at Remy and asked, "And who is this young lady?"

The rude one went over to her and told her something in a low voice, and the other woman looked at Remy with surprise. "Of course you can go look around," she said, "but I'll have to accompany you to make sure you don't...do anything to the Dottore's belongings."

Well, whatever. It was better than nothing. Remy went up the staircase with the kind woman behind her and walked down a hallway. Several voices were coming from one of the rooms, and that was where Remy supposed the meeting was. But one room in particular caught her attention...

"Is this...er...was this...Scipio's room?" Remy asked. The woman nodded. Remy opened the door and stepped inside.

The woman winked at her. "Have fun. I'll come get you when the Dottore is ready. It should only be a few minutes." She closed the door behind her and left.

In the sudden silence, Remy walked around Scipio's bedroom with a feeling of...she didn't know. It was a weird feeling, the fact that Scipio had once been in here, lived in here. The huge bed was covered in silken light brown sheets, made up so perfectly that it was obvious a maid had done it. Several expensive objects in glass cases lined the walls, and Remy wondered if it was from these that Scipio had stolen. There was a dusty mahogany dresser in the corner with a gold-framed mirror on top of it. It was here that Remy stood and looked at her reflection, searching for the Scipio parts in her. The skin, of course. The stubborn attitude. The sly personality. Was this enough to make the Thief Lord?

No, certainly not. For one, you had to be daring. For another, you had to be well practiced in the art of sneaking around. And finally, you had to love your friends so much that you would, really, risk anything for them.

You had to be Scipio.

The perfection of this room was not Scipio. Nothing in here was. But, after searching through the dresser's drawers, Remy found a letter folded up several times, thin with age. She unfolded it and smiled at her father's familiar handwriting. It read:

_Barbarossa,_

_Recently it was reported to me that you have been steadily dropping your offers lately. I understand if you are not selling much at this point in time, but 200 euros for what was brought in on Wednesday the 3rd is ridiculous. Remember that we are not lost animals begging for scraps. We are businesspeople and we are what keep your shop up and running. If you want to continue doing business with me, make your offers higher or we'll give you absolutely nothing at all. You wouldn't want that when we are the only ones willing to sell to you for cheap, now would you?_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_The Thief Lord_

Well, maybe a part of Scipio did exist in here. Remy folded the note back and, after a moment of hesitation, slid it into her pocket, just as the door opened and a voice said, "The Dottore is ready to see you, Miss."

* * *

Dottore Massimo sat in his armchair and glared at Remy, lips tightly sealed in a straight line. Across from him, Remy met his glare with an equal amount of annoyance, sitting on her knees and making a point to get the bit of dirt on her sneakers all over the chair. If this was any other man, she would have not been this bold. But this was the Dottore, the man she hated most in the world.

"So," she said in an icily silk voice, "I believe you know that I am your granddaughter."

The Dottore did not respond. Remy hadn't expected him to. "And I am here today," she went on, "to let you know something that my father should have told you years ago."

"I---" the Dottore began, but Remy held up a finger and he quieted, looking furious.

"No, let me finish," she said. "Do you have _any_ idea of the hell you put him through?" Remy leaned towards him slightly, putting a hand on her leg and narrowing her eyes. "Well, obviously you don't if you're sitting here secure in the fact that he's gone. Nothing can go wrong now, right? That's what your mind is telling you. Those are the lies that your mind is telling you.

"I think that you are a rotten, spoiled bastard and that---"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way!" the Dottore roared. Remy didn't even flinch, but instead shot back in an angry tone:

"I can talk to you however the hell I want to. If you'd shut your trap for about five fucking seconds then you might actually not have people talking to you like this. But you're too stupid to do that, I can see. And look where it's landed you now.

"My dad hated you and still hates you with everything in his being. He's not the only one. All of his friends and my mother? They'd beat the shit out of you in about a second if they had the opportunity to. You made his life miserable, and don't think you're going to just get away with it that easily. Your maids and servants hate you. Your ex-wife thinks you're a pile of crap. Face it, Dottore. Everyone can't stand you. They're all planning behind your back to get out of here."

"I don't know who you think you are, but you're wrong," said the Dottore, though he didn't sound so sure of himself. "You're wrong. Now get out of my house before I call my guards on you."

"Do it," Remy taunted him. "I dare you to. Coward. You can't even deal with an eighteen-year-old girl by yourself. That's called 'pathetic.' My main reason to come here, however, was to warn you. I actually feel sorry for you. My father is living a great life with his friends, a woman he loves, and his daughter. But since you ruined everything before that for him, you will pay. One day you'll spend all of your time in Hell and the stench of your rotting corpse will be the only thing to make people wonder where you've gone. And if you dare screw up my dad's life again, I _swear_ I'll send you there personally."

Remy stood up. She was done here. But there was one more thing. Just one. Risky, but what did she have to lose?

"Good-bye, you sorry excuse for a father," she said, looking down at him. "Have fun being tortured for the rest of eternity." Remy threw as much hate as she could into her fist and promptly punched him in the jaw. The Dottore's head snapped back, hitting the back of his chair, and Remy left the room, satisfied.

Just as she reached the bottom of the staircase, Remy heard the Dottore's door open and a loud shriek. Grinning, she stepped out the front door and into the warm afternoon sunshine.

* * *

Author's Notes: Oh yeah! Someone got OWNED! Hahaha. I had the greatest time writing this chapter. I know it's kind of unrealistic, but Remy was really, really ticked off. And admit it: you laughed when she punched the Dottore.

Please review! I've started school again and I'm already very busy, and I know it took forever to get this chapter up, but I worked my best at it. Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 7

Author's Notes: I'm so, so, so, SO sorry this took 3847395613753 years to get up. The Science Fair is currently going on at our school and man am I busy. Thank you so very much for your patience and wonderful reviews. I really appreciate it!  
Warning: This chapter contains very strong violence.

* * *

"Well, I've got to admit - I'm impressed. I didn't think you had it in you."

Remy turned around from where she was inspecting a display of clothing, recognizing the voice with a feeling of dread. And indeed, the redheaded teenage thief she'd first seen two nights ago was standing there. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail and she was wearing a short, peachy-colored plaid skirt and a rather revealing white top. This clothing was rather ratty and torn in several places, but overall quite clean, as though she'd spent a large amount of time carefully picking off dirt and mud.

"Um...what are you talking about?" Remy asked, confused.

"Well, God, what do you think I'm talking about?" she asked, in what should have been a rude tone but wasn't. "What you did to the Dottore was...sheesh. You know that he could have called the cops on you."

Remy didn't know how to answer that. However, she couldn't help but hear the slight admiration in the girl's voice.

Another young woman who seemed to be slightly older than the redhead bumped into the both of them and sent the girl crashing into Remy, nearly making the both of them fall over. She laughed, oblivious, as she walked off, not even stopping to apologize.

"Hey!" said the redhead, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her around so that the two were facing each other. "Fuck off," she said.

The young woman looked down at her clothes, noticing how much skin they showed. "You too, slut," she barked back.

"What did you just say to me? _What did you just say to me, bitch?_" The redheaded thief clenched her fists as she spoke with a raised voice, taking a step towards her opponent.

People were staring, and a slight crowd was starting to gather around the two. Remy escaped from it as quickly as possible, not wanting to drift into the middle of the likely fight. In a matter of moments, however, a tall employee had broken the two up. The redhead walked back towards Remy clenching and unclenching her fist and said, in a surprisingly calm voice, "Anyway, punching the Dottore really wasn't something I expected from you. But I guess you must have been pissed, right? I'm impressed," she repeated.

"Yeah," said Remy, swinging her arms at her sides. "Well, uh, thanks, I guess."

"Mm-hmm." There was a sudden silence; the girl seemed uncomfortable for some reason. Finally she blurted out, not sounding like she meant it at all, "I'm sorry, okay? The both of them are just jerks, but, well, Clyde, he's actually really nice but he never acts like it..." She stopped her ramble and looked at Remy as though she were supposed to know what she was talking about.

"Um."

"What I'm saying is that I'm sorry if we scared you that night. We - well, it was really more of Trey and Clyde's idea, really, and no, I'm _not_ just saying that - just wanted to let you know. But like I said, it was really Trey and Clyde's idea. Not mine. I swear."

"Oh, um, okay. Um, you're forgiven."

"Good," snapped the girl, and then she was guilty again. "Really, though, I am sorry."

"It's okay." There was silence again, and Remy tried to break the mood with a lighthearted question: "So let me guess: Clyde's the one with the lip with scars all over it? Like...don't tell me...Bonnie and Clyde?"

She nodded, smiling. "Yep. Pretty lame, isn't it? His real name is Daniel, but if you call him that he gets all ticked. So most of the time I call him Clyde. Unless I feel like annoying him."

"And Trey's the...other one?" Remy decided not to say instead: Trey's the idiot who pretty much scared the shit out of me at two in the morning and just about broke my arm?

"Sure is. God, he's, like, the most annoying person on the face of the planet. Clyde I can handle, but Trey...God. I can't stand him."

"I know how that's like. I had a friend just like him. Well, not really friend...but you know what I mean. He always pulls on your hair and makes fun of you for the stupidest things. And he's such a pervert! You don't know how many times I would just be sitting in my desk at school and he'd either try to pop my bra strap or do the stupid old'oh-I-just-dropped-my-pencil-on-the-floor-I'll-go-crawl-around-for-it-and-try-to-subtly-look-up-your-skirt' crap. He never got a girlfriend the entire time I knew him, go figure."

The redhaired girl laughed. "Yeah. Boys can be like that."

For the next hour or so, the two discussed anything and everything that came to mind. Finally, the redhead asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

Remy looked around, only now noticing how dark it was getting to be. "Um," she said with a quick glance down at watch; it was difficult to make out the numbers in such little light. "7:32."

"Crap, I'm late!" the redhead said loudly, running into an alley towards who knows where. "Bye, I'll see you around!"

"Wait!" Remy called after her, and she popped out from behind a corner. "What's your name?"

The girl considered whether or not to answer this, and finally replied, "Alessa." And with that, she was gone.

* * *

_On the other side of town..._

"God, she's late," said Trey with yet another glance at the lopsided clock on the wall. He'd been pacing for the last half hour and his patience was wearing thin.

"Well, give her some time," said Clyde, knowing that he had a short temper and trying to delicately get Alessa out of the mess she was in. "She might not know what time it is, or maybe she's stuck somewhere, or---"

"I don't care!" thundered Trey in response. "She needs to learn some freakin' responsibility. When I say get somewhere by a certain time, I mean it." He stared towards the door with a glare angry enough to burn a hole in it.

Clyde didn't have a response to that, and he didn't need one: at that precise moment, the door of the Stella burst open and Alessa appeared out of nowhere. Apologies were spilling out of her mouth at an incredible speed, tumbling and tripping over each other, but all three of them knew it was no good. Clyde exited the room as fast as he could, knowing what would occur in the following moments and too much of a coward to try and stop it.

"I'm really, _really_ sorry!" Alessa squeaked for the millionth time as soon as Clyde's figure had vanished from view. "What happened was that there was this guy and he was---"

"Did you not hear me say 'be back here by seven'? What, are you that deaf? Or are you really that stupid? Goddamnit, Alessa, why don't you ever fucking listen to me?"

"I do, I swear I do! But---"

"Don't even _dare_." In one swift movement, Trey had grabbed her by the hair and yanked her towards him. Alessa inhaled sharply, and an even worse pain exploded all over her head; she saw stars. Trey gave her another whack to the skull and let her go. Alessa slid down to the floor and placed her hands on her head, watching blood drip all over her skin through tear-filled eyes.

"Get up," said Trey, kicking her in the small of her back. She didn't stand, but instead moved her bloody hands to her face, feeling salty tears on her palms. "I said get up, bitch. I'm not finished with you."

She could have - should have - just said no. Things would have turned out quite differently if she did. But while Alessa was truly brave on the inside, on the outside, she was terrified.

So, with difficulty, she stood, as sharp pain shot through her body and she was falling, falling...

Falling.

* * *

Author's Notes: What is going on? Sorry for the graphic and depressing update, you guys. It had to be written, and my plans for Alessa contain this.  
Also, if you've ever played the (totally awesome!) game Rumble Roses, Alessa's outfit was basically like Candy Cane's. Just as a reference if you know who I'm talking about.  
Comment and you get candy, even though this update was such a short, sad piece of crap. I genuinely hope you liked it, however. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 8

Author's Notes: Thanks for sticking with my story, you guys! I know it takes FOREVER for me to update, but I'm busybusybusybusy these days! Guess what? It's already about halfway over! Yeah, I know, I can't believe it either. I know that it will end up quite a few chapters shy of Audacity, but I'm making these chapters a lot longer than I did for Audacity, so it should be around the same amount.  
And to the many of you who have been asking what in the world I'm going to do with Alessa: I've got all types of plans for her, but let me tell you that her role in this story will be a very important and emotional one. I hope you all like her character, because from now on she'll be popping up a whole lot more in this story.  
As per usual, enjoy this update! It's a bit of a filler, but gets a little more into Dave and Remy's relationship. And here we go again...

* * *

"And I'm all alone...though I'm not going to go through this again...you've ripped me down to the bone...but I'm proud of my sins..."

Remy stood in the huge crowd of dancers and screaming fan girls singing along with everyone else, being pushed from side to side by the mob of people around her. She grinned at Dave when he nearly tripped over one of the many wires connecting Obsolete's equipment to nearby plugs and almost falled off the stage, passing it off as best as he could. He smiled back for only a few seconds, turning back to the microphone and the small performance they were doing.

The second the song finished, there was a loud round of applause, and someone from the front shouted at Dave, "You're really hot!" A few people laughed, and Dave smiled sheepishly.

"I try my best," he replied.

Xavier, from next to him, glanced down at his watch, tapping his foot impatiently. Finally getting the picture, Dave quickly went on, "You can get all of the songs we played tonight and more on our CD, _These Little Lies_, which is now in stores! Thank you for coming out here! We are Obsolete, good night!" There was more applause and screaming from the girls in the crowd as the three hopped off of the stage and vanished from sight. Remy waited for most of the people to leave before making her way to the stage, where Xavier was packing away his bass guitar into its black case. Ray, who had been saved the trouble of dragging his drumset around Venice because there was a spare at the club, was twirling his drumsticks around and Dave sat on the steps of the stage tying his shoes.

"That was amazing, you guys!" Remy exclaimed, once she'd reached the three.

"You always say that," said Ray.

"But it's true! And oh my _God_, I can't believe that the album is really out! It's great, isn't it?" Indeed, earlier that day, These Little Lies had finally taken its place on the shelves of one of the local music stories, after many weeks of frustration from Obsolete. This was their first post-release performance, and a party had been planned for later that night.

"I know. Xavier, hurry the hell up," Dave added over his shoulder after finally getting his shoes tied.

"Gimme one damn minute, Dave, God," the bass player responded angrily; his case wouldn't close. He tried to snap it shut and it fell open once more. And again. And again. "Stupid piece of shit," he said loudly, after having to resort to taping it closed.

"Yeah, yeah, we know. Now let's go," said Ray. He and Xavier trooped outside with Dave and Remy trailing along behind them. Apparently, they were responsible for bringing a certain brand of beer to the party they were going to, and the one store that sold it would be closing in less than ten minutes. They darted through the streets - Remy lagging behind slightly - and made it there just as the employee inside put the **CLOSED** sign up.

"Hey, wait up," said Xavier, knocking on the door. The employee returned and opened it. "We need to buy something from your store really quick. We'll only be a few seconds, I promise."

The employee nodded, and Ray and Xavier practically ran into the store. They returned a few moments later with several six-packs in their arms, and Dave got stuck with having to carry Xavier's bass all the way to his house while they went off to the party, saying they'd meet Remy and him up there shortly.

"This is pathetic," complained Dave as they walked down several blocks afterwards, heading towards the party. "I always get stuck with doing everything. I have to haul all their stuff all over Venice because they're too lazy to. And who did all that shit with the record company to get our freakin' CD published? Me. They never do anything. _Anything._"

"Well," Remy began, and then stopped, not quite sure what she would say next. "Well," she started again, "maybe they just haven't learned responsibilty yet. You need to tell them that you're tired of doing everything for the band and that you would really appreciate if they'd help out. These things take time, Dave. And, um, Ray and Xavier just need it. Or something. I don't really know how to say it."

"I know, but it's just that it seems these days everything's going wrong," said Dave miserably. "They don't do anything but argue and crap and they're really starting to stress me out. Plus, I've got a job that I'm about to get fired from and...and...my sister is pregnant and is always calling me to complain about her ex-boyfriend or wail about how sick she is all the time or that she doesn't have money and I'm somehow responsible for sending her a check every month because she's a single teenager who can't work because she's having a baby in a month...I mean, what the hell is wrong with everything these days? God."

Remy suddenly remembered the young woman on Dave's kitchen wall, the one who looked so unlike him. His sister. "She's pregnant?" Remy asked, surprised that he'd never told her any of this before.

"Yeah, and she's always bitching my ear off. But whatever." Dave looked up at the sky suddenly, stopping in his tracks, and Remy crashed right into him.

"Sorry!" she said quickly, embarrassed now.

"No, it was my fault for just stopping all of a sudden. Sorry, Remy." Dave glanced at a spot next to Remy and said brightly, "Well, it looks like we're here!"

Remy turned, surprised that she hadn't noticed the house before. It was large, in a rich-snobby way, sitting on the corner of the street. Multicolored lights and dancing bodies flew past the windows, and music so loud that it could most likely cause an earthquake shrieked through speakers inside. If the house had been made of jell-o, it would have literally been jumping up and down.

"Wow. They're having all of this for your CD's release?" she asked, impressed.

Dave smiled. "Actually, no. It's just a party that a friend of mine is throwing and I thought that since we should celebrate some way or another, we decided to go here." He opened the door, making the music so much louder, and said, "Ladies first."

Almost as soon as Remy was inside, she lost sight of Dave. _That's strange_, she thought. Where could he have gone? It seemed odd to her that he could vanish in such a short amount of time, but she didn't see him anywhere nearby. Oh well. He'd turn up sooner or later.

As she wandered out of the crowd, getting pushed all over the place in the process, Remy spotted Xavier and was about to ask him if he'd seen Dave when she noticed he was kissing a girl with a tattoo on her neck. Embarrassed, she walked away, finally finding Ray drinking a cup of beer and talking loudly to a group of people around him.

"...and then he just fell into the water, just like that. _Plop!_ It was the funniest shit ever, man, and I've never let him hear the end of it."

The group of people roared with laughter and Remy tapped Ray on the shoulder, just realizing how tall he was. "Hey," she said to him when he turned around, "have you seen Dave anywhere? We just got here and I can't find him."

"Uh, no," said Ray. "I'm sure he's around somewhere. Hey, the beer's over there, by the way, in the kitchen. You can't miss it."

"Okay, thanks," said Remy, walking away again. She didn't plan on getting drunk again after that time she'd woken up at Dave's with such a horrid hangover, easily the worst she'd ever had, but being a little tipsy never hurt anyone.

A bony girl with a bright pink mohawk was leaning against a counter when Remy came in, drinking a cup of beer and narrowing her eyes at someone, but she smiled at the sight of Remy and put her cup down. "Hey there," she said to Remy, already picking up a nearby can of Budweiser. She was wearing a short, pleated black skirt, laced-up black boots, and a halter top that exactly matched the shade of her hair. She handed Remy the beer after opening the can with long, black fingernails and smiled even wider at her. "Who are you? I haven't seen you around."

"Remy," she replied, taking a sip of the beer.

"I'm Aine," said the girl. "Pretty crappy party, isn't it?"

"Um." Remy didn't know how to answer that.

"I know, seriously," continued Aine. "I was told that this was supposed to be the best party of the year, but man, it's been such a dud. And if a certain_ someone_ wasn't here to fuck the whole thing up then I would actually have a good time, but she's such an ass..." Aine seemed to be talking to herself more than Remy as her angry voice rose in tone and she glared at someone in the mob of dancing people.

"Oh, that sucks." Remy twirled a piece of hair around one finger, and wondered if Aine knew who Dave was. "Hey, um, you haven't seen the lead singer of Obsolete around here lately, have you? Tall, pale, dark hair. He---"

"Dave?" questioned Aine, and Remy nodded. "No. I didn't even know he was here."

Well. This was great. "Oh, uh, thanks anyway." Remy stood in silence once more for a few minutes, sipping on the beer for lack of anything else to do and wondering where the hell Dave could be.

"Hey!" shouted Aine back as someone in the crowd yelled something at her. She threw her empty cup in the trash can and advanced towards the living room. "The same to you, bitch!"

Remy was suddenly reminded of Alessa saying similiar things just the previous day. She wondered where the young thief was, or what she was doing. For reasons unknown, Remy suddenly felt sorry for the young girl, living on the streets with barely enough money to eat. But, she reminded herself, it wasn't like she could do anything about it.

Remy threw away the can once she realized that she was getting to be more than a little tipsy; anyway, it tasted bad. She entered the crowd again and waded towards a short woman who was standing around smoking a cigarette. "Hey, do you know where the bathroom is?" she asked her, feeling slightly sick.

The woman thought for a minute. "Uh... Second floor. First door to your right, I think." Remy thanked her and made her way up the stairs, opening the first door she came across. She realized that it was not the bathroom but actually a cheap-looking guest bedroom, and Remy was just about to close the door when she noticed Dave sitting on the bed reading a magazine, looking bored.

"Hey, where on Earth have you been?" Remy asked him, closing the door behind her and sitting down next to him, kicking her shoes off and only now noticing how sore her feet felt.

Dave raised his eyebrows at her. "Downstairs? I just came up here because this idiot kept messing with me and I'm not really in the mood for beating anyone up."

"You were not."

"Yes, I was."

"No, you _weren't_."

"Yes, I _was_, Remy."

"You weren't. I haven't seen damn hide nor hair of you the entire time I've been here."

"Well, I was downstairs."

"I haven't seen you at all. But whatever." Remy curled up next to him and put her head on his shoulder. "Whatcha reading?" she asked him.

"I have no idea. Just some crap about brain cells and...something. I don't know."

"Brain cells. I think you're going to be the next Einstein, Dave."

"Sure am."

They sat in silence, excluding the gentle throb of the music coming from downstairs, as Dave read and Remy leaned against him, feeling a little drowsy. At the same time, she was kind of...hyper? She didn't know. It was a weird feeling. But, in a way, she liked it. A little.

Dave suddenly put his arm around her and Remy's breath got caught in her throat, noticing how close his hand was to her bra strap. Of course he wasn't doing this on purpose, she scolded herself. Stop being ridiculous.

"Dave?" she said, and felt stupid for being uncomfortable, but even dumber for being about to tell him so. But she was saved having to continue this when another wave of nausea hit her; she jumped off of the bed and threw open the door, tripping on her shoelaces along the way. Ofcourse. Hoping that whatever damn room this was, it happened to be the bathroom, Remy opened the door of the next room she saw and, to her relief, it was. She barely made it to the sink in time and hobbled out of the room feeling like an idiot. What stupid person couldn't take a little bit of beer without throwing it all up? _Really._

_I guess me and alcohol don't mix_, thought Remy. But still.

"You okay?" asked Dave, who, she just now noticed, had been standing in the hallway. Remy's cheeks flushed pink.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she mumbled. Idiot.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay," said Dave, sounding doubtful. "Well, anyway, I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Pathetic, I know. But I'm heading home. What about you?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm pretty tired too."

"Okie doke. Let's go."

Dave linked his arm in Remy's - who was still stumbling a bit - and helped her through the hallway and down the staircase. "You know," he said as soon as they were outside, "this is the second time that I've had to drag you back to the hotel when you're drunk."

"I am not drunk."

"But you are."

"Am not."

"Am."

"Am not."

"Am."

Remy reached over with one arm and gave the back of his head a light slap. Dave pretended to be injured and cowered away from her, and Remy grinned.

"Ow!" he said.

"Wimp."

"I am not a wimp!"

"Yes, you are."

"But I'm notttt," Dave whined.

Remy smiled even wider at his pathetic expression. "Oh, shut up, Dave."

* * *

Author's Notes: ...Meh. Sucky ending.  
Review please, lovelies!


	10. Chapter 9

Author's Notes: Thanx for reviewing, dudettes! (And dudes? Lol, I don't know.) This chapter is mainly about Alessa and very sad, so be warned. It chapter also contains violence.  
Enjoy...

* * *

Dragging herself out of bed and darting around Venice for money at 7:02 in the morning was not Alessa's idea of fun, but it was a requirement, something that had to be done, and there was no point in complaining. Crawling out from under the covers and standing up on tired legs, Alessa glanced around the room. The barely-there sunlight filtered through the many holes in the roof, illuminating the sleeping form of Trey on top of a pile of sheets. She shuddered, feeling uneasiness walk up and down her spine.

The fractured mirror lied to her, something Alessa was unaware of, calling her names and jeering at her. Standing in front of it, she began her daily routine of trying to hide whatever injuries she'd gotten the previous night. There was a faded pink handprint on her face, and dried blood caked on her chin from a large cut on her lip. Alessa's head felt beyond sore, and was aching from exhaustion and the collision of Trey's fist.

After positioning her hair on various areas of her neck and face and failing to to hide the harm she'd recieved, Alessa gave up. Well, let the people notice and ask questions. That was their problem. They didn't know a damn thing about her, and they shouldn't judge.

Jerks.

Once, long ago, Alessa had heard that a damaged self-esteem could be cured by small daily compliments. _Well_, she thought, staring at her reflection, _my eyes are nice. And my hair is a pretty color._

_Liar, liar, pants on fire..._

Alessa sighed and stared at the ground instead, eyes welling up with tears. She hated that she was so weak and frail. And most of all, she hated Trey, but at the same time, didn't. It was so hard to explain.

_Who am I kidding? I'm not attractive in the least. I'm never going to be pretty enough, or good enough, or strong enough. I don't know why I even bother any more when nothing is never, **ever** going to change._

This wasn't the first time these thoughts had come to mind, certainly not. But each time, they hurt more and more. There seemed to be no point to getting up these days. Alessa often found herself wishing, as her teary eyes closed in the evening and nightmares attacked her mind, that she wouldn't wake up in the morning. Sometimes, she felt so small. Sometimes, she felt so numb.

Being compared to the idea of perfection was never easy.

Hopelessness engulfed her more times than she could count. It always seemed like, no matter which way she turned, which direction she ran, there was no way out of this. No way but one. But she was much too scared to do that, too frightened of what waited beyond still hearts and glassy eyes forever frozen in expression. No, she wasn't quite ready to do that. Not quite yet.

Alessa shook her hair out of her eyes and straightened herself up, or tried to, at least. Rubbing her eyes with her palms, she exited the room with a yawn and sleepily shuffled through the bedroom and down the staircase. It was, in a way, funny how they'd ended up in the Stella. The Thief Lord's turf. But Alessa didn't really care. The Thief Lord was gone now, so why should she? It didn't matter.

Nothing did, these days.

* * *

Remy was walking out of a bakery with Dave at her side, who was chewing on a brownie, when she noticed Alessa slowly making her way along the sidewalk, only a few feet ahead of her. Her head was down and her firey red hair was draped over her left shoulder. Maybe Remy was just imaging it, but she seemed to have a bit of a limp. Immediately, a wave of pity crashed over her at the sight of the young woman.

"Hey, Alessa!" she called, and Alessa turned around. She made a point to hide the left side of her face with her hair, not wanting Remy to see the handprint there, but Remy didn't notice. "Do you want a cookie?"

Alessa blinked. "Do I want a what?" she called back.

"A cookie!" Remy repeated, pulling a peanut butter one out of her shopping bag and walking up to Alessa, handing it to her. Alessa blinked again and looked down at the cookie. Her expression was unreadable, blank.

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Alessa, giving it back to Remy.

"No, really, have it. I insist."

"Well..." Alessa continued looking down at the cookie for a moment more, and then looked up and smiled widely at Remy. "Thank you! Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

Alessa smiled even wider. "Thanks!" And so she walked off, down the sidewalk, nibbling on her cookie, but not before Remy had noticed the large cut on her lip. For a moment, she considered asking her about it, but Alessa had already vanished. Remy shrugged and continued walking through the streets with Dave. It was probably - hopefully - nothing big. Maybe she'd just run into something. Remy could understand how that was.

How wrong she was.

* * *

Alessa walked through the dark streets with a heavy heart. The bit of money in her pocket wouldn't be enough to buy a pencil, much less keep Trey happy. Her stomach was twisting in on itself and she felt sick with anxiety.

Running a hand through her hair, she told herself to just breathe. To relax. Trey probably wouldn't be so mad, she lied. He'd understand.

Not.

As she opened the door of the Stella, though, she knew she was wrong. Trey was sitting on a faded red theatre seat and his arms were crossed over his chest, eyes locked in an angry glare. Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

"Trey, please, I'm on time," Alessa pleaded immediately as he stood up and walked over to her. He was so tall, his shadow casting a cloud over Alessa's terrified figure.

_God, please not now, not now, not now..._

Alessa was preparing herself for the worst, but Trey simply shoved her against the wall, and, one hand pressed against her chest, demanded of her, "How much money you got?"

Alessa reached into her pocket and pulled out the small pile of money she'd managed to get that day. She handed it to him and hoped, hoped, hoped that he wouldn't be angry. Of course, this was hope wasted, but she couldn't help herself. The small amount of faith she had in luck frequently came up at times like these.

"This is all?" Trey asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Trey, I tried, I really did. Just _please_ understand that there's---"

But she never got to finish that sentence. Trey had already thrown her to the floor and, in a hearbeat, Alessa felt powerful blows against her body. She tried to unsucessfully shield herself by placing her hands over her head and curling up into a ball, but it was no use. The tears were already coming and she hated herself, hated herself and every inch of her uselessness, patheticness.

_Stupid, worthless bitch. Worthless..._

Tonight was going to be different, as it was every once in a blue moon. She was tired of being torn to pieces so often, tired of being who she was. And while death was very appealing right now, she had to stand up and fight before truly giving in.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Alessa pushed herself up from the floor, pain exploding all over her lower back. Wiping her tears away as best as she could, trying to not appear any weaker to Trey than she already was, she turned to him and ducked as his fist went towards her face. Alessa put her foot down on the floor with a loud thumph and took a step towards him on weak legs, watching the world around her spin. She was so tired. So weak. But it wasn't yet time for the end.

"Trey," she began, in the strongest voice possible, "stop. Please, stop. I'm working my life out for you and you do this..."

"Don't you even start on it!"

"STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT!" Alessa screamed. "Stop talking to me!" Her vision flickered on and off for a moment and she nearly fell over, but she wasn't done.

"You know that you deserve it, you pathetic little slut."

And it was true. It was true, as far as Alessa knew, but today she wasn't going to listen to it. Feeling her vision waver again, she took another step towards Trey, knowing that she was getting herself into more trouble than it was worth but not caring. "I," she started, "am tired of working my ass off sixteen hours a day just so you can sit here and push me around. I am tired of living here, I am tired of being hungry all the time, I'm tired of living, and most of all, I'M TIRED OF YOU!" With a final sob, she turned away from him and ran, out of the door and into the warm night.

Alessa ran and ran until her vision couldn't be any more blurred and her legs more tired. She stopped and bent over, holding onto one of her knees with a grip of steel, panting. The tears falling from her bright hazel eyes dripped from her face and splashed against her clothing, darkening the spots they hit. Alessa stood against the wall and slid down it, hitting the ground with the smallest of thumps. She stared at the bright stars above her and let out a great, shuddering sigh, her entire body trembling, tears still flowing. She felt pathetic. Pathetic and empty. And tired. It had been so long since she'd gotten proper sleep...

This wasn't the first time she'd run out on Trey. But every time, she came back. Every single time. Because she couldn't bear to really leave.

She couldn't bear to be alone.

* * *

A soft, steady, nearby sound caused Alessa to jerk awake. It was even darker than she remembered it being before she fell asleep, most likely because the moon was completely hidden by swirling dark clouds. Vaugely, she wondered if it was going to rain. She hoped not.

How much time had passed? Rubbing her eyes and yawning, every bit of her back aching at each movent, Alessa decided to go ahead and head back to the Stella. Trey would be mad, of course, but he'd be even angrier in the morning when he would have had time to get even more furious. So she might as well go ahead and get it over with. He would be sitting in the Stella and waiting for her by this time. And it was never good to keep him waiting.

Alessa tired to stand, but an incredible pain shot through her back and it took everything she had not to scream out at the surprise of it. She placed her hands on the wall to the side of her and took a few short breaths, attempting to calm herself down. She looked at the ground below her and her stomach churned at the sight of blood splattered across the cobblestone.

_Good God..._

It wasn't over. It was never going to be over. How many times had she found herself in this position? Several times too many. The stupid, weak tears returned, but this time Alessa made no attempt to stop them. She gingerly felt her back with one hand and felt the horrid, overwhelming pain again. Slowly, wincing every step of the way, she shuffled along the alleyway and tried to make her way back to the Stella. Tried.

For a moment, when she just couldn't walk any more and sat down on a nearby wooden crate, Alessa considered going to the hospital. It was, oddly enough, only about three blocks away. But she knew that she couldn't afford the bill, and anyway, they had so much fancy technology these days that they probably would be able to find out exactly how she got such a terrible injury. And Trey couldn't be found out, not now. Not ever.

The steady sound that had woken Alessa up returned. It came nearby, then faded away, nearby, away. It sounded like footsteps. Great. The last thing Alessa needed was someone messing with her. She put her head in her hands and hoped they wouldn't walk by her.

The footsteps came closer again, and then stopped. Then there was the sound of sandals hitting the ground, _slapslapslap_, and again, they stopped. "Oh my God!" shrieked a familiar voice. Alessa looked up.

"Alessa...what _happened_ to you?" Remy asked, horrified.

* * *

Author's Notes: Yesh. I sacrified my Biology grades for this chapter because I was writing this when I should have been studying for a test, SO YOU BETTER LIKE IT. Hahaha.  
Review, please!


	11. Chapter 10

Author's Notes: Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reviewing! I know that updates take longer and longer, but I've got four projects due in school this month and I've been busy as heck. Also, a lot of my time is being spent by me.  
-insert drumroll here- (You'll never believe it)  
...writing a book! Yep, it's true. (; It's a very long and difficult process, and as I'm sure you know, most don't get published, but I'm really trying. So the next year and a half or so, I'll be busy writing it. But don't worry, I won't forget about you guys. I'll put up a bunch of more stories on here in the future. And here we go again...

* * *

Remy looked down at the young teenager in front of her and bit down on her lip worriedly. She could tell that something was wrong with her, not only from the obvious injury on her lower back, but also from the tears flowing from the redhead's eyes. "Alessa?" she repeated, bending down slightly so that she was level with her. "What happened?"

"It's just...it's..." Alessa turned her face away from Remy and wiped at her eyes, breath as short gasps. It sounded as though she was having trouble breathing. "It...I'm fine, Remy. Fine."

"Fine?! God, Alessa, it looks like you've broken your friggin' back! There's a hospital not that far from here, I'll help you get over there..." Remy attempted to get her off of the crate, but Alessa wouldn't move.

"I'm okay, Remy, h-honestly. Just...I'll be fine." Alessa stood up and nearly fell over again; she grasped the wall for support and slowly made her way along the alley. Every inch of her screamed in pain and protest, but she wanted to prove to Remy that she was stronger than she seemed and continued on, grimacing. Alessa left a rather suspicious-looking trail of blood behind her as she went.

Remy ran to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. "Hun, you don't know what you're saying," she said. "Come on, let's go to the hospital. They'll get you in a room right away as soon as they see you. The doctors will take care of you, I promise."

Alessa yanked herself out of Remy's arm and saw stars. Turning to the eighteen-year-old, she barked, "Shut up! Leave me alone already, Jesus Christ. If I say I don't want to go to a damn hospital, I mean that_ I don't want to go to a damn hospital_. Go away, Remy. Just go away."

Neither of them could say which one was more surprised by her outburst. Remy took a step back as though she'd been slapped, her arms falling to her sides. She began shakily, "I'm sorry, Alessa, I...I just wanted to help."

"Yeah, well, help never got anyone anywhere, now did it? You...I don't need this right now." Alessa turned and limped down the alleyway, one hand still on her lower back. For a moment, Remy considered going after her and dragging her to the hospital, regardless of what in the hell her protests were. But then she stopped.

_If she doesn't want me to help her out, then I won't_, Remy thought angrily. _That's her problem._

Remy was genuinely worried for her; she knew that an injury like that didn't come from simple clumsiness or an accident. Someone must have done it to her, but if so, who? And when? Was she going to be okay?

_Well_...Alessa was now out of sight, gone. _Whatever_.

* * *

"...so anway," Amelia droned on, "I, like, got really flippin' busted. And Josh totally hates me now."

"You sound rather calm about this whole thing," Remy remarked, pressing her cellphone closer to her ear and barely avoiding tripping over a flock of pigeons. They all squawked at her and flew away, landing a few meters from her on the cobblestone street.

"Yeah, well, this happened yesterday. God. And Josh was such a creep anyway."

Remy was about to respond when someone bumped into her from behind. She turned to see Trey, who was standing there and apologizing at the speed of light.

"One second, Amelia," said Remy, and put the mouthpiece to her shoulder. "Oh, um, hi. It's alright," she said to Trey.

"No, really, I'm so sorry---"

"It's okay, honestly." Remy smiled at him. She was about to go back to her conversation with Amelia when she remembered Alessa's condition the previous night. "Is, uh, Alessa doing okay?"

"What do you mean?" Trey asked.

"Well, last time I saw her, she was in pretty bad shape. Her back was, like...broken? I don't know. It looked like she was in a lot of pain."

"Oh," said Trey. He had a suspicious look in his eyes, but Remy couldn't pinpoint what it was. "She's really clumsy and stuff."

"I can relate to that."

"Yeah. And the other day she fell off the railing of the stairs and hurt her back. It was bleeding and stuff. But we took care of her, and she's alright now."

"Ouch! Good God. Poor girl. Well, tell her I said that I'll be keeping her in my thoughts, won't you?"

"I will." Trey wandered away, somewhere into the crowd, and Remy said into her phone:

"So what were you saying about Josh again, Amelia?"

"Well, he can't stand to look at me now. But like I said, I don't really care..."

Author's Notes: Holy moly, that was the shortest chapter EVER. I was really in a rush to get it to you guys before I leave to go stay at my cousin's house for the next few days. But oh well. Happy Mardi Gras!


	12. Chapter 11

Author's Notes: I can't begin to tell you all how sorry I am that these chapters keep coming later and later and later. Not only is school about to murder me, I'm really, really stressed out. Plus my cousin is having a baby and getting married and my godson's sick with the flu and his mom needs me to babysit him a lot and I'm trying out for regional band thingy and...gah. Too much stuff on me brain.  
Well, enjoy this update! Even if it is two weeks late. )8

* * *

_This cookie is disgusting_, Remy thought with a shudder, putting it back down on her cheap plastic plate. No wonder the cafe was so empty, though the fact that it was seven in the morning probably didn't help much.

Running a hand through her dark hair and sighing, she looked around and wondered what she was going to do today. Including this one, she had four days left in Venice. Just four. The thought was saddening, but, at the same time, she had to admit that the thought of college, looming ever closer, was quite exciting. But still, she did not want to leave Venice. It had become sort of a home to her, and she would miss everything about it, from the sound of the water slapping against the canals to the annoying pigeons, the sights and the people, the endless, endless excitement. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was conceived here. Maybe not. But all in all, she loved Venice, and did not want to leave.

There was also the thought of Dave. Of course their relationship was nowhere near serious, but he, too, would be one of the things she would miss. And his band life, as well, with Ray and Xavier just being themselves all the time. Their friendship was wonderful, and she wasn't looking forward to ending it. But, as was always said, all good things must come to an end.

Suddenly, Dave himself entered, accompanied by a young woman who looked to be about eighteen. Remy could tell, from the blond hair to the ridiculous amount of makeup on her face, that this had to be his sister. Plus, with her large stomach, she was obviously very pregnant, something Remy knew she was.

Remy wanted to talk to Dave, or at least say hello, but she didn't want to come butting into their...argument. Which, indeed, was what seemed to be going on. The sister was talking in an angry tone and Dave was rolling his eyes and sighing an awful lot.

Deciding to leave, Remy threw the plate away and exited through the door. She thought she saw Dave turn to look at her, but knew that she was imagining it when she saw it was still arguing with his sister.

"I," a voice announced from behind her, scaring the crap out of Remy, "would like to thank you for being so nice to me the other night." Remy turned to see Alessa standing there awkwardly in clothes that showed _way_ too much skin than they should have, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, holding her back with one hand, and staring at the ground. Alessa had something in her other, closed hand, and Remy wondered if it was for her. "I'm really sorry that I was being such a bitch," she said. "I was just in a really bad mood. You know?"

"Yeah. It's okay, Alessa. You don't have to feel bad about it. Thank you very much for apologizing, however."

"Mmm," muttered Alessa. Still not looking at Remy, she held her hand open. In it was a brown and yellow pot holder, obviously knitted by herself from the uneven lines and slightly pentagonal shape.

Remy was extremely touched by this.

"Oh, thank you!" she said, taking it from Alessa and examining every inch of it in the pale sunlight. "It's really pretty!"

"You're welcome," replied Alessa in the same low voice. She still wouldn'y look at Remy, obviously more interested by the ground. "It's, uh, well, a pot holder, of course, but if you don't cook it can, uh, make a nice decoration. Or something. And if you bite your nails, you can, you know, twist it around in your fingers to, uh, keep them busy and stuff. So you won't bite your nails."

"I do," said Remy, and it was true: many times she had gotten several finger injuries from biting them so much. "Thanks, Alessa. I really do love it."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Though Remy was trying to make herself think of the pot holder and how thankful she was for it, her thoughts kept going to Alessa's clothing. She hoped that she wasn't getting unwanted attention from men because of them. But then again, maybe they were the only clothes she had.

"Hey," said Alessa, brightening suddenly, and she looked up at Remy. Finally. "You wanna see something really cool?"

Remy could immediately see why Alessa had been staring at the ground this entire time. There was a small cut on her chin, with blood still smeared around it. She had a puffy black eye that looked painful to touch. But most of all, there was a huge gash going from her eye down to her jaw, grotesque and red. That definitely would leave a scar for years to come.

"Um," stammered Remy, once again temporarily distracted. "Oh, um, yeah, sure. Where is it?"

"I'll show you." Alessa limped away, still holding her back, and Remy followed her. They wandered through what seemed like endless streets and alleyways, silent excluding Alessa's voice. She was singing several old Beatles songs, as Remy soon realized, and though she sounded rather off-key, she seemed like she was having a fun time doing it.

Finally, they reached a staircase that Alessa lead Remy up. It was to an apartment building similiar to Dave's. There was a man who seemed about twenty standing outside one of them and smoking a cigar, staring into space, but Alessa definitely caught his attention as he passed.

"Hey, babydoll," he crowed, "how you doin'? Up for it tonight?"

Alessa looked uncomfortably at Remy and said, in the awkwardest of voices, "Um, John, can we please discuss this another time? I'm kind of busy right now..."

"Whatever you say, Alessa," he replied, blowing a cloud of smoke in her face. Alessa coughed. "But know that I'll always be here if you get lonely, babe. Mmkay?"

Alessa had an "Oh, God" expression on her face as she walked away, eyes glued to the ground again. Her cheeks were red, but not in an embarrassed way. She seemed to be deeply ashamed of herself.

"Alessa?" asked Remy awkwardly after some silence. "Is he bothering you?" The defensiveness she'd gotten from Elaine was showing through as she glanced back at John with a glare and back to Alessa.

"No, he's just -- he's just an old friend of mine. He didn't mean anything by that. Just...ignore it. He was just joking around."

Moving very well for a person who was so badly injured, Alessa crawled up to the roof of the building, using bricks sticking out and temperature gauges as footholds. She looked down at Remy and asked, "Need some help? Or you think you can make it?"

"I can make it fine." Remy had climbed trees of all kinds throughout her childhood and knew how to get up to places. In a matter of moments, she was sitting next to Alessa on the roof.

"I'm impressed," said Alessa, sounding like she meant it. "Most people can't get past the third one."

"Oh, well, you know," responded Remy, leaving that sentence hanging.

"Anyway," said Alessa after a moment, "turn around. No, this way. Yeah. Like that. That's amazing, isn't it?"

Remy had seen what seemed like every view of Venice there was, but never had she expierienced a sight like this. Instead of showing nothing but Venice, Venice, Venice, it gave way to the boat docks leading out of there and the shimmering waters beyond. It was a spectacular sight, indeed. Remy shut her mouth after realizing it was open.

"Yeah," she breathed. "It is."

There was no college to bother her now. No anxiety about leaving behind Venice and Dave. Just herself. No worries. Absolutely carefree.

The two talked for what seemed like hours. Remy liked talking to Alessa. She was much more mature than her age and talked with carefully chosen words. Plus, she knew how to keep a conversation going instead of just letting it drop and die. Like Remy did.

It got later, and Alessa had to go. She and Remy climbed down and they walked to a street corner two blocks from Remy's hotel. Remy, thinking that she'd been nothing more than an afternoon's entertainment, was surprised when Alessa said good-bye to her.

"Oh, good-bye to you too, Alessa," said Remy, really meaning it, as she wasn't sure if she was going to see her again before she left Venice.

Alessa hesitated, and surprised Remy even more when she threw her arms around her and hugged her. And then, just like that, she had vanished, her limp apparently not slowing her down.

Well, thought Remy, maybe there was something forming here. A friendship. Even if it may not last very long at all, she couldn't help but feel pleased that she'd made a new friend in Alessa. And maybe Alessa considered her a friend, too.

Just maybe.


	13. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: ...eh. You're all going to hate me for this chapter.

* * *

Sunday.

Remy's last day.

In Venice, that is.

She'd woken up at 5:30 in the morning and fallen back to sleep half an hour later, after watching some show on animal intelligence. Remy had literally ran around Venice all morning and some of the afternoon, taking quick pictures of everything: the water, the people, the buildings, the city life. And she still didn't feel as though she'd seen everything Venice had to offer.

But oh, well. There was always a next time. And when Remy told her parents how much she'd enjoyed Venice, she had little doubt that they would be happy to send her back. Even through all of that, she couldn't help but feel sadness bloom over her, knowing that she was going to leave all of it behind.

Now, it was 5:26, and Remy was climbing up the stairs to Dave's apartment. She'd say good-bye to him and be on her way to dinner, and then back to her hotel to get the rest she would badly need for the next day. Something was wrong, however; she could sense it in the air. As she arrived in front of Dave's door, she came upon a nightmarish scene:

"No, you're wrong! You're lying! Get out of here!"

"And you're telling me to get out of here, when this is MY friggin' house? _You_ leave!"

Two woman stood before her. One she recognized as Dave's sister, who had her arms crossed over her chest. The other seemed to be Alessa's young age, with short, jet-black hair and several piercings in one ear. The latter was doing most of the screaming, though when Remy appeared, it was Dave's sister that turned to her and shrieked:

"And who the hell are you?"

Remy was set aback, instantly in fighting mode without realizing it. "Excuse me?"

"I said who are you? Don't you dare tell me that he's been feeding you the same bullshit he has been us!"

"What are you talking about? And who's he?"

"Dave!" screamed the one with the black hair. "Dave fucking Johansson!"

A strange kind of sinking dread was filling Remy's stomach. "Oh, my God..." she began. "He didn't---but---what happened?"

"He cheated," said Dave's sister, taking a few deep breaths as she spoke. "He cheated on us."

"But you're his sister," said Remy, confused.

She raised her eyebrows. "Sister? Oh my God, did he honestly say that?" She took another deep breath, and Remy realized that she was close to tears. The pregnant woman held out her hand and Remy saw a sparkling golden ring on one of her fingers with tiny words encrypted on it. "I'm his _wife_. It says so right here. Olivia and Dave, forever---" Olivia choked on the last word, and took yet another breath before repeating, "Forever."

"Oh, God...I had no---Oh, I'm so sorry...I didn't know that he was..."

"I just can't believe it," said the one with the black hair, leaning against the wall and putting her hands up to her face. "And you're one of his girlfriends too, right? Aren't you?"

Remy nodded slowly. "I mean," she added quickly, realizing two seconds too late that it probably wasn't the best thing to do at the time, "it's not serious at all, I've known him for less than a month and---"

"It doesn't matter," the black-haired one responded, voice muffled slightly. "Nothing matters. I just can't believe that he...that...he...He was supposed to come home an hour ago! God knows where he is now...there's probably even more girls out there. Even more."

Even more.

The thought made Remy's blood run cold.

She couldn't say that her heart was broken, since she'd barely known Dave and they certainly weren't in true love. But she could see how much the two woman in front of her were hurting, and she wished she could do something, anything, to ease their pain. But she couldn't.

"I'm---I'm really sorry, you two---is there anything I can do?"

Both of them shook their head. "No," said Olivia. "There's not." For a moment, there was silence, and she broke it with: "God, as soon as he comes home...ooh..." Olivia stopped once more as her voice broke again, and she went on in a mad rush: "And these are his kids I'm carrying! His twins! What are they gonna---They're not gonna have a dad! How am I supposed to do anything now? I just can't...why would he do anything like this? I _trusted_ him. He said that he loved me."

"He said the same thing to me," said the one with the black hair, taking her face out of her hands and staring off to the side. Remy saw a glistening tear roll down her cheek.

* * *

Olivia stared down at the staircase for what seemed like the millionth time in the past few seconds and then joined the other two at Dave's kitchen table again. "Still not here," she said, looking down at her feet, or, more precisely, her large stomach. "He's _still_ not back."

The other young woman, whose name Remy had found out was Brooke, ruffled her black hair and stared at the wall. She stood up and for a minute, Remy thought she was going to rip down every picture of herself right from it. But then Brooke sat down again and sighed.

"You know," she said, rubbing the mascara from her tearstained cheeks, "my mom always told me to never trust a man. I guess I should have listened to her." Brooke sighed again. "He took me away from her. From both of my parents. He said that we would get married, screw me being sixteen and their opinions of him, that he would marry me. We ran away in the middle of the night. It was so stupid," she said with a dry laugh, "because we almost got caught about fifty times. A twenty-one-year-old definitely looks suspicious running around with a teenager who looks like she's barely just got her license."

The ring Dave had proposed to her with lay on the middle of the table, and every now and then she would examine it and carefully place it back down.

Now she simply stood up yet again and curled it in her palm. Opening the closest window, she threw the ring outside. All three of them heard a clink as it hit the ground.

"I hate this," Brooke declared, tearing a picture of herself down from the wall and proving Remy's thoughts right. "That stupid, cheating bastard. I wish that he would just...ugh. I hate him."

Olivia and Remy watched silently as she took down pictures of herself and Dave down from the wall and ripped them to shreds, depositing the pieces in the garbage can. When she was done, Brooke sat down at the table and looked at Remy.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Needless to say, Remy was confused.

"Oh, um. Thank you. I'm not really bothered by it. I'm just sorry that you have to go through all of this."

"Yeah," said Olivia, starting slightly as one of the babies kicked. "It really...sucks. To underestimate it."

All of them jumped as the front door opened and Dave entered. He was smiling, but his pleased expression vanished when he saw the three women staring at him.

Brooke was the first to speak.

"You _asshole_," she accused, standing up and knocking over the chair she'd been sitting in. "I can't believe you."

"Oh, uh, hi, Brooke," Dave said nervously. "What---?"

"You know what I'm talking about, you fucking bastard!" Brooke shrieked. She pointed at Olivia and Remy. "Do you know how much you've hurt them? Hurt me? Are gonna hurt their families? Olivia's pregnant with your kids! Remy was just trying to have a good visit here and you fucked everything up for her---" She stopped talking and took a deep, steadying breath. "It's off."

Olivia stood up too. "You can have your ring back," she said, taking it off of her finger and putting it in his hand. "You can have everything you want. Besides me and your kids. I'm not coming back to you, Dave, and I'm sure as hell going to make sure that you never talk to your kids because you've screwed me over so bad. You deserve it, you cheater."

"But---"

Olivia and Brooke had already stormed out of the door, leaving Dave and Remy alone. He turned to her, but she stood up and placed herself in front of him before he could speak. The powerful glare she was giving him made him nervous.

"I can't believe you," Remy said, pushing past him and through the door.

"But Remy---please---"

She didn't hear him. She was already walking down the stairs. Brooke and Olivia were making their way down the street, headed to who knows where. When Remy caught up to them, she heard Brooke saying, "Well, I guess I'll have to go back to my parents. They'll be really mad. But I guess I don't have anywhere else to go."

Brooke smiled crookedly at the two. "Well, again, I'm really sorry. So good luck with everything, I guess."

And just like that, she was gone.

Olivia and Remy walked in silence. "I'll just go back to the hotel," said Remy. "I don't know what else to do. What about you, Olivia?"

There was no answer. "Olivia?" Remy asked, and turned around.

Olivia's eyes were wide as she slid her hands over her stomach. She stopped walking and sank to the ground. Remy gave her a confused look just as she shrieked, "Oh my God, Remy! Get--get over here..."

Remy ran to her side and put a hand on her arm. "Olivia, are you okay? What's happening? Is it the babies?"

Olivia nodded, biting her lip, and looked up at Remy. "Remy, I think...I think I'm in labour..."

_Oh, my God_, Remy thought. What to do? It was hard not to panic as she looked around for help, but it seemed as though everyone was gone. "Oh, _shit_, Olivia!" she cried. "Crap--I dunno what to--wait. Do you have a phone on you?"

Olivia nodded again and reached into her pocket. She threw a phone at Remy, who hurriedly dialed 9-1-1. As soon as she heard someone pick up, Remy blurted out, "This girl -- my friend -- she's giving birth to twins --"

"Where are you located?" asked a surprisingly calm voice on the other end.

Remy told them the name of the street and they hung up, saying they'd send an ambulance right away. She sat next to Olivia, who was breathing in _puff-puff-puff_s. "Is there anyone you want me to call for you?" asked Remy gently, holding her head up with her arm again.

"Yeah, my-my-" _puff, puff, puff_ "-brother. His number is 555-0198. Just tell him t-to meet me at the hospital, would you, please?"

Remy did. Barely a few minutes later, they saw and heard an ambulance boat pull up. They rushed Olivia into the double doors and Remy watched them speed away, feeling odd. She couldn't describe it, exactly. It was just a strange feeling.

She walked along the streets and thought about Dave. Honestly, she felt fine. But still, Brooke and Olivia had had such hope in their futures with him that she was angry. He'd ruined their lives with his selfishness. And Remy was sorry that she'd wasted her entire month in Venice on him.

Remy looked up and, with a start, realized that the building she was standing in front of was not the hotel. It was still, however, very familiar. Very familiar indeed. She must have subconsiously brought herself her.

She put an ear up to the door, listening for any kind of sound. There was none. None at all.

Remy pushed open the door and stepped inside.

* * *

Author's Notes: The end is near! No, not of the world, silly, of the story! There's the next chapter and the one after that and it's done! o:


	14. Chapter 13

Author's Notes: I do believe a "We Hate Dave" club is in the making. Heehee.  
So this chapter is the most insanely long piece of literature ever. (It's actually longer than the final chapter of Audacity!) I'm pretty sure you'll like it. No, scratch that, I'm POSITIVE you'll like it. And guess what? The chapter after this one will be the last! Yeah, I can't believe it either. I must warn you, however, that there are things in this chapter that may be offensive to some people. It mentions prostitution and (**really** mildly) drug use. This chapter also contains a lot of violence and somewhat graphic injury descriptions. Also, there's stronger language in here than in most chapters, but I don't think you care. And here we go (again...)

* * *

"When the power of love is greater than the love of power, the world will know peace." -Unknown

_"Your lies are bleeding through your teeth,  
And your arms are still the only ones holding me,  
Your promises never really meant a thing,  
But they flowed from your lips So easily_

_Stay stay stay stay stay away from me Stay stay stay stay...away...stay stay stay,  
Stay away from me.  
Stay stay stay stay...away.  
Away..._

_It's my best that you're hard The glass that rips your word apart Is it the guilt that keeps you up at night while you're in bed?  
When you can sleep sound, honey, I'll return to attack!"_

-Stay Away by Paramore

* * *

Clyde was gone.

"He's gone? What do you mean, 'he's gone'?" cried Alessa as soon as Trey informed her of this. "He can't leave. He doesn't have anywhere to go! How will he get any money? He won't make it out there!"

"I don't have any idea," responded Trey flatly, digging around the cupboard for something. "I just woke up and found this." He threw a piece of paper at her, and Alessa caught it. It read:

_Alessa and Trey,_

_I'm leaving. I can't explain why to you two, but I'm not ever coming back. Too much has been going on._

_Sorry._

_Clyde_

Alessa re-read it several times until the words blurred. Then she threw the paper onto the floor and promptly started throwing a fit. "Well, fine, then! Starve on the streets, Clyde! We don't care! We never gave a shit about you! Especially for the fact that we took you in and gave you food and actually provided your sorry orphan ass with shelter for a fucking _year_!" Alessa made a point to stomp all over it with her old sneakers and cover it in dirt.

Trey watched her temper tantrum silently. He gave up on his search for whatever it was in the cupboard and closed it. "Well," he began, "he's an idiot, isn't he?"

Alessa stopped stomping her feet and looked at him. Where was this friendliness coming from all of a sudden? "Um," she said, taken aback, since anything he ever said to her was rude, "yeah. He's not gonna survive out there. Where will he get money? He's not that good of a pickpocket."

"He'll be fine," said Trey, reaching over to pat her arm. She instinctively flinched away, but he didn't notice. "Don't worry about him."

Alessa didn't know what to do. Where was this nice attitude coming from? She was suspicious. Alessa always kept her guard up when she was around Trey, but usually, it was no use. Now, though, she wondered if he was using the power of surprise. Maybe he was trying to distract her with Clyde and when she was least expecting it, he would reach out with one hand and slam---

_Shut up. Do not think like that. You're only making yourself feel worse. Stop it._

"Yeah," said Alessa, having forgotten already what Trey had said. "Well, um. I guess I'll go now. You know. Stuff to do." She awkwardly departed the room. Trey heard the front door shut behind her as she stepped out into the Venice morning.

* * *

"Alessa, get your ass in here!" Trey barked, and Alessa felt that same shiver run down her spine that she felt whenever he yelled at her. She could do nothing but obey, dragging her exhausted feet down the stairs and towards where he stood in the middle of the theatre. Her body was aching for sleep, for it all to end. For everything to fall down, down, down, until it was finally over.

"Look at me," Trey said, yanking her by the front of her shirt towards him. She could smell beer on his breath, and as frightened as she was, she couldn't help but feel angry. Stupid Trey, wasting their money on alcohol when they could use it on something they actually needed, like food and clothing and a proper home. Alessa shifted her tired eyes to meet his own and held her breath, waiting for his next move.

"Now, you slutty bitch," he slurred, "when I say get here by a certain time, I mean it. Do you understand?"

Alessa said nothing, biting down on her lip so hard it bled.

"I said, do you understand?"

"Yes, Trey," she mumbled, looking at the ground again.

"Then why are you turning up here two hours late?"

"Trey," Alessa said, and it was more of a plead than a statement, "getting this money takes time. I can't get any at all if I have to run back here before I have any. Please, Trey---"

"Shut up," he said harshly.

And that did it.

Alessa was tired of the way he treated her, so, so tired. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd pulled away from him and was shrieking, "Well, Trey, if you'd get off your lazy ass one day and actually get a fucking JOB, then you wouldn't be pushing around a girl smaller than you like the wimp you are! You're a coward and you disgust me. You call me worthless, but look at YOU, you asshole trying to...trying to _murder_ someone not even close to your age. You shut up, Trey! Shut up!"

She saw it coming before it happened, and, as usual, couldn't move out of the way fast enough. The force of Trey's fist coming in contact with her cheek was enough to knock her back into the wall and slam her head against it. Alessa felt blood begin to drip over everything, but she could do nothing about it as she was slammed against the wall again.

_God, kill me now,_ she begged. _Please, end this. I don't want to do this anymore. I'll die if that's what it takes, and I know it will. Please. I don't want any of this._

The blows kept coming and coming, and she felt herself slipping closer and closer to her breaking point. In all honesty, she thought she was going to die. Alessa welcomed the possibility. Maybe, in whatever kind of afterlife there was, she could finally find peace. And maybe a little more.

She could barely see. The world was ending. Trey was going to kill her. She was on the floor now, not even knowing who she was or where she was or how she'd ended up here in the first place. And with a final smack against her head, everything was black.

It was over.

It was all over.

* * *

The darkness that wrapped around her was no longer the kind of sanctuary it had once been. Instead, it was more like a betrayal, hiding secrets that would never rise to the surface when they so desperately needed to. She didn't trust it any more. It was a liar, a traitor, like everything else was.

Alessa wasn't sure if she was dead or not. Everything around her was black, so she must still be passed out. At the least. She couldn't feel anything, and she couldn't move anything. And yet...

She was breathing.

Alive.

Alessa tried to sit up and felt like she was being attacked all over again. Blood soaked through every inch of her clothing and through the carpet. Sore spots covered every bit of her that they could. Reaching a hand to her forehead, she felt a deep gash there.

But she was still alive. She was a living, breathing, human being. She was alive.

She was alive.

And, in that one moment, she knew that she never deserved this. Didn't. And never would.

The answer was so simple. Alessa couldn't believe that it had not come to her earlier. It had to be fufilled if she wanted to get herself out of the personal Hell that Trey had created alive. And she did. She had to do this. She wanted to do this.

Every muscle was screaming at her as she stood up. Alessa could barely hear herself think through her pain, but maybe she wasn't. Wasn't thinking. Her mind was blank because she was so calm, so sure of what she was going to do next. Using every bit of the energy she had left, Alessa pulled on the big light switch and suddenly, the Stella was bathed in light.

It truly looked like a murder scene. There was a beer stain on the wall from where it had been thrown and green glass littered everywhere. Beneath the beer on the wall, there was also a splash of blood, falling to the ground and leaving an enormous red spot there. It looked like a whole slew of people had been attacked than just one teenage girl.

Alessa slowly stumbled to the kitchen. She fell down a number of times along the way, but she picked herself up every time, a determination more powerful than anything she'd ever felt, maybe more powerful than anything in the world, overriding every insecurity that had so comfortably nestled in her heart. And as she picked through the silverware drawer, she felt an odd kind of power seep through her.

She'd let him kick her around like an old horse. She'd let him break her down to nothing. She'd listened to all of his lies.

And believed them every time.

_But not any more._ Alessa had been pushed beyond her breaking point, and it was time to collect herself together. Time to be the strong girl - no, woman - she knew she was inside.

Alessa crept up the staircase and quietly opened the door to she and Trey's bedroom.

Once she reached it, she turned on the light, wanting to see his expression when it was done. She walked to the edge of his bed, right next to him, and suddenly felt a wave of fury roll over her. He looked so peaceful when sleeping, and that sickened her. He was happy that he was practically murdering her.

Happy.

Alessa thought of all the other girls that had found themselves in this type of position, but less secure in themselves, not daring to defend. And she knew, as she raised the knife above his neck, that she was doing the right thing. She was ridding the world of one less abuser, and saving so many lives.

Like her own.

Trey was just seconds away from his death and completely clueless. An odd part of Alessa was pleased over this, pleased that she was finally getting him back. _Trey,_ she thought, _I can't believe how far I've let you go. And it's time to back that all up and let you know how much it hurts. How strong I really am._

_I hate you, Trey._

A moment passed, and Alessa did not move.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't believe how weak she was, but she couldn't do it. She could not kill Trey. Alessa had the knife raised over him, and it would take just the faintest movement to kill him, but still, she could not do it. Her hands were trembling and she was beginning to question her descision.

_Okay, try again. You can do this. He deserves it more than anything._

Alessa counted to three and swung the knife down, biting her lip to stop the scream she knew would follow. It had made just a moderate scratch on his neck when his eyes flew open.

The look in his eyes was terrified beyond words. And, not knowing why she was doing it, Alessa was pulling the knife away, taking steps backwards, her own eyes wide. Because she knew that expression.

It was, after all, one she had made countless times herself.

"Alessa," gasped Trey, sitting up, "what---?"

"No." Alessa loved the way her voice sounded, so strong and confident. She wanted him to see her covered in injuries and pains that used to be unhealable. Maybe it would teach him, now that he was the victim, how much it hurt. How close he was to killing her.

Trey was having trouble breathing. "D-don't," he stuttered, then had to gasp for more air, like a fish out of water. "Don't do t-this, A-Ale-Aless---"

"I can do whatever I want," replied Alessa, waving the knife threateningly. The movement her arm made caused bright red blood to fly through the air and splatter on the lamp nearby. "Now who's the victim, Trey? Do you like how it feels? Do you?"

Trey responded with a series of inhales and gasps, trying in vain to wipe the blood on his throat off.

"Get. Out." Alessa had never sounded so menacing in her life, but now she knew for sure that if Trey didn't leave, she'd kill him. "Leave, Trey, and don't _ever_ fucking come back."

"I-I'm gonna--get---cops," stammered Trey, but he looked scared.

"Do it, then." Alessa stepped closer to him and Trey scampered off of the bed. She was holding the knife towards his direction and was mere seconds away from stabbing him with it, or tossing it through the air at him. "You're so weak. You know you won't do it. Now leave, and you'll just be fine," she purred in the same voice that had both saved and ruined her before. "Go, Trey. Go."

And Trey was leaving. Trey was running through the room and out of the door. Alessa followed him with pride in her step, making sure he exited, though she knew he wouldn't dare stay. He galloped down the staircase and across the theatre, not even stopping to stare at the gory scene scattered around the huge room.

The door slammed shut, and he was gone.

Alessa stood in the middle of the Stella and exhaled deeply. She was so proud of herself. No longer would anyone have to be hurt by Trey's hand or words. No more.

She threw the knife to the floor and stepped over it, looking down at her clothes and realizing just how much blood was in them. Time to start cleaning up. Time to start taking care of herself. Alessa picked up the glass shards from the beer bottle and threw them into the garbage can. Then, knowing that there was nothing she could do about the blood, she dug around for the first aid kit and, finding it, slapped bandages on every bleeding bit of skin she had. She cleaned the wound on her forehead with ointment and slowly walked towards the Stella's door. How far away was the hospital again? Wasn't it three blocks or so? Not very far at all.

Just as Alessa opened the door, she slammed into something. At first the bizarre thought that she hadn't opened the door after all flew through her mind, but then she realized that she'd crashed into, of all people, Remy.

"Alessa?" Remy gasped, steadying her upright again. She put her hands over her mouth and moaned, "Oh my God, Alessa, what the hell happened to you?"

Alessa just shook her head. "I need to go to the hospital," she said. "Right now. I've lost a lot of blood and there might be a bit of a scratch in my skull."

"Okay," said Remy, still horrified, but surprised that Alessa sounded so calm. "I'll help you get there." She put an arm around Alessa's shoulders and lead her outside. The night was surprisingly cool for summer, and, whether in shock or from the temperature she didn't know, Alessa shivered. Remy noticed this, and took off her light sweater, putting it around her shoulders. It was getting covered in blood, but she didn't care. She had others.

"I'm her sister," Remy told the nurses when they wheeled Alessa away to the emergency room. One of them raised an eyebrow.

"She will be going through extreme care and probably will not wake up for a few hours," she said. "You cannot visit her, even when she wakes up. She needs---"

"But, ma'am, my mother told me to always take care of her," pleaded Remy, and shit, she was no good at lying, "and that I'm responsible for anything that happens to her. Plus, I want her to know that I'm there. That she's safe now." Remy choked on the last part, hoping to God that it would work.

It did. "Well, okay," the other nurse said, "but you'll have to wait until she wakes up. And then you'll have to ask the doctor for permission."

"Thank you so much," said Remy, not even listening, as she dashed down the hall towards the waiting room. There was nothing in here but cheap, uncomfortable-looking chairs and boring magazines. She sat down and crossed her legs, then uncrossed them and picked up one of the magazines. Remy flipped through it before finding that there was nothing interesting in it and put it back. It was then that she realized that this was going to be a very long wait.

The minutes passed slower than thawing molasses, and it felt as though it had been hours when Remy looked up at the clock and discovered that it had only been twenty minutes. Frustrated, she asked another stray nurse,

"Do you have any idea how long it'll be before she wakes up?"

The nurse replied, looking more interested in her perfectly shaped fingernails than Remy, "Still another few hours. She is seriously lacking on sleep and needs a lot to recover."

Just wonderful.

An hour later, Remy was considering, for a brief moment, just leaving. It was getting later, and she had to leave tomorrow. Plus, having not known that they were gone, she thought that Clyde and Trey could take care of her. But no, Alessa had specifically asked _her_ to help bring her to the hospital instead of refusing and being so impolite like last time. Leaving would be mean.

What had happened to her, anyway? Remy knew that Alessa was clumsy, but this looked worse than any kind of tripping, falling, or crashing accident. Maybe she'd done this to herself? The awful thought made Remy shiver. She hoped to everything that Alessa hadn't hurt herself like this.

The hour hand on the clock slowly slid to the next number, and the number after that, and the number after that. Remy was getting tired. She leaned against the armrest and tried to get as comfortable as she could in the cheap chair, hoping sleep would claim her. It did not.

Finally, sick of waiting and exhausted, Remy was awoken from her half-sleep by a nurse tapping on her shoulder. "She's awake," the nurse said to her. "And you can visit her."

Alessa was propped up on a pillow and covered in white sheets when Remy came in. There were several needles stuck in her that Remy was trying not to think about (she didn't like needles, to say the least) and though she was still a bit pale, some color had returned to her cheeks. For some odd reason, she was smiling as she pet the spot on the bed next to her.

"Oh, hey, Remy!" she said cheerfully. "Come sit down."

Remy did, still a bit confused as to why Alessa greeted her like an old friend she had not seen in a while and, most importantly, why she was so..._happy_ instead of wincing in pain.

"The doctors said that I had a lot of blood loss," she began, words spilling over each other with the speed they were being spoken, "and they had to give me a transfusion or whatever. But they also said that I'm doing alot better blood-wise now. And I've got a crack in my skull, right here - " Alessa reached a hand up to her head and traced a short line on it " - you can't see it because of my hair though - but anyway, I might have some memory loss or be a little confused sometimes or something because of it. It didn't go that deep, though. For which I'm lucky."

"That's good," Remy said, and she honestly meant it. "I'm glad that you're doing better, Alessa."

"Yeah, me too. And then there's a bit of a...fracture, I think they called it? in my rib. But it's itty bitty. Like, I can barely feel it. I mean, it's a little sore, but not much. They just said I have to take it easy. And if I continue like this, I can leave in...uh...well, I'll have to stay for the night, and tomorrow, but they said that if I do really good I can leave the morning after that." She smiled wider at Remy, obviously pleased.

"Wow, so that's...two nights? That's not very long at all. Are you sure they said that?" Remy asked skeptically.

Alessa nodded so fast that her hair flew madly all over the place like a big red fire. "Uh-huh! But I'm gonna have to take some medications and stuff like that. And I'll need to go to a doctor in a week or something to get a check-up. But besides all that, I'll be one-hundred percent a-okay."

"That's good," Remy said again. "Um, Alessa, you don't have to tell me if you don't want, but what happened to you?"

Alessa suddenly looked so sad and serious that Remy regretted asking it. The redheaded teenager looked down at the sheets and took a deep breath. "I'd rather not talk about it," she mumbled.

"Oh. I understand. I'm sorry, Alessa. I didn't mean to upset you."

Alessa seemed to have not heard her; she continued to stare at the sheets. She opened her mouth as though she were about to say something, but closed it shortly afterwards. Then she took a deep breath and opened it again.

"Remy, I...I mean, I don't want to talk about it, but I have to let you know. You've been nothing but nice to me and you deserve to." She took yet another breath and said, seeming to be talking to herself more than Remy, "Okay. It's...Okay."

Remy waited for her to continue.

"Well," began Alessa, "it all started when I was just a baby. My mother was quite the partygoer, and apparently she had some sort of drinking problem. She became pregnant with me when she was just sixteen. She never knew my dad. He was just some one-night stand. I was just another fuck-up, a mistake. She..." Alessa stopped as her voice broke, and it took several moments to calm herself down. "She really didn't care about me at all. So when I was three weeks old, she just left me in an alleyway and vanished. I don't know where she went. I don't believe _anyone_ does.

"A woman by the name of Jeanine took me in and raised me. She was poor and had alot of problems going on in her life, but she meant well, she really did. Then, when I was fourteen, she was diagnosed with cancer. Jeanine couldn't afford treatment, so I tried to help her out. At first I worked at a store, but I earned about nothing and was fired after getting into a fight with a fellow employee. And it seemed like anywhere I went, something went wrong. I couldn't get a job. There...there was only one option left. And I took it." Alessa looked down at her lap, picking at her fingernails nervously.

"What was it?" Remy pressed, hoping she wasn't asking too much or going too far.

"Well, um...I...I was only fourteen, Remy...it was really awful to go through...but I had to help her..." Alessa took a deep breath, steadying herself as much as possible, and blurted out: "I had to sell myself. My body. Most of the time, I had to go to four or more different men a day. I didn't let Jeanine know, because it would have upset her. I was trying my best to get as much money as I could, but it was never enough. By the time I had the money to get her treatment, it was too late. She was dead, and I couldn't do anything about it, anything to reverse it, anything..."

Alessa stopped talking as her voice cracked and broke. Remy noticed that her eyes were full of tears and a few escaped and slid down her face. Alessa wiped at them impatiently, but it seemed to bring on a waterfall as the rest of them broke free. Remy was about to put an arm around her or something, anything, but thought that the nurses wouldn't like that. But then again, the nurses weren't in the room. Screw whatever they thought, Alessa needed comforting.

Remy carefully put a hand on Alessa's arm as a sob escaped from her. To her surprise - many things about Alessa surprised her, she realized - Alessa wrapped her arms around Remy and cried onto her shirt. Remy held her close and suddenly felt a lump form in her own throat. Poor Alessa. It was moments like this, stories like this, that proved that she had really been through more than words could say, that she had real emotions like everyone else. The straight face, the happy smile, it was just all a mask. And nobody ever bothered to look for the person beyond the lie.

"T-Trey," Alessa gasped after a moment, "was one of my main...clients? I d-don't know what to call it. He worked at a club that I went to a lot and stuff...When J-Jeanine died, I couldn't bear to stay in that home. It reminded me too much of her, and it really hurt. So I just went to live with him - I didn't have anywhere else to go. He lived alone in a little apartment because his parents had kicked him out after finding out he did drugs - they didn't want the neighbors to gossip - and for about five months we just lived together and all that. But then we were evicted because we couldn't afford the rent and we went to live here. We stole things to get by, and I had to go back to prostitution because even then we were pretty broke. We met Daniel - Clyde - whatever - about a year after we moved in here. He was a runaway and since he had pretty good pickpocketing skills, we let him live with us. And that was that.

"Trey and I have never really said 'I love you' or anything like that. We haven't exactly been a couple...but we've gone through a lot together. A lot."

The heart monitor was beeping wildly, and Alessa threw a sour look over at it as she straightened herself up, still keeping a hold on Remy. She started talking again, and Remy was wondering how many sad things she had seen in her life as she did so.

"Earlier this morning - yesterday - God, you know what I mean - Clyde left. And it changed things, because even though he didn't get that much money, everything counts when you...when you live like us. I went a little nutty at that. I think we both did. And I was really pushed to the edge of my breaking point when I was yelling at him about how he was lazy and he made me do all the work..." Alessa stopped, and sighed. "It doesn't matter. Just a bunch of stupid words. But he was really mad when he...he..."

_Alessa, you can do this. You're strong. You're stronger than him. I trust you. I love you. Come on, just tell her. The worst of it is already over._

"...he hit me. He did all of this." Alessa waved at her body with one hand.

"He did WHAT? That rotten bastard, I'm so gonna kick his ass!" Remy was about to stand up and do whatever when Alessa yanked her back down to the bed with surprising strength. "Alessa, I've got to do something about this!"

"No, you don't. I've already taken care of it. He's done it so many times before, and I was sick of all of it. " Alessa was smiling as she told Remy, "I threatened him with a knife and he left. I don't think he'll be coming back to bother me again."

The words jumbled together and made no sense. Remy tried to piece them together. "Okay, so...wait." She was a bit confused. "You threatened him. And he left."

"Yes, Remy, that's exactly what happened," Alessa replied patiently.

"Oh, uh...wow. Wait, what am I saying? That's amazing, Alessa! Great job! I'm really proud of you!"

Alessa smiled weakly, an expression that quickly turned into a frown. She sighed again and said, "Thanks, but a fat lot of good that'll do me when I have to go out on the streets again after this is over and start stripping off my clothes all over again for money. Shit, I don't even know why I bother--"

"Don't say that." Remy placed a hand on Alessa's arm once more and looked straight into her eyes. "Do you know that my mom used to have - and still has to deal with - depression? She used to hate herself so much, and she always told me that the rest of everything was easy when she had to deal with the hell that was the hopelessness. But she got help. The medicine and counseling helped, and my dad helped, and her friends helped, and even I helped, I hope. She was stuck in a pit for the longest time, Alessa, and we all helped her dig herself out. I think that I can find someone to do the same for you."

"But that costs money, Remy, and I'm flat broke."

"No, it's...No. Stop. Let me think for a minute." Remy considered what to do with Alessa, exactly. Of course she wasn't going to let her go back to the streets and the life of a prostitute again, but what could she do? Where could she bring her?

The idea hit her in a sudden burst of inspiration.

"My parents," she thought aloud. "My parents would love to take you in! Oh my God, why didn't I think of this before? They'd move you in and buy you crap and take care of you and get you the help you need...oh, Alessa, they would _love_ you!"

Alessa stared at Remy with a peculiar expression.

"I mean," Remy quickly went on, "if you're thinking it might be too much trouble, I promise you that it won't be. My mom always wanted more kids, but for some reason she and my dad never had any more than myself. They'd throw a freaking party if you joined the family!" Remy smiled at the thought.

Alessa was silent. Then she said loudly, "What do you mean by 'the help I need'? I'm just fine as I am, Remy. I'm not a crazy person! I don't need 'help'!"

Remy didn't know how to respond to this. She was more than a little surprised by Alessa's reaction. _Well, whatever,_ she thought bitterly. _If you're going to be that way, then fine, be that way_. But she said none of this aloud, since she suspected Alessa would take it back soon.

She did. Alessa closed her mouth and looked away from Remy, at the wall. She let her breath out through her nose and looked back at Remy with a pained expression. "I'm so sorry, Remy," she said. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just...it's been...it's been a long day."

"I know it has," said Remy, patting Alessa's arm comfortingly. "You've done so good. You're a really strong person."

Alessa smiled at her. "I'd love to move in with your parents," she said, "if they'd have me."

"Of course they would! After all, my father's the Thief Lord. He used to take in street punks like you all the time," Remy teased her playfully.

Alessa responded by giving Remy's arm a light smack. "Oh, shut it, you," she replied with a grin.

Remy thought about how she was going to get Alessa to London for a minute and finally came up with a plan. "I was gonna go back to London tomorrow - that's where I live - but since you won't be realeased until the day after tomorrow...Hmm. My parents couldn't get a ticket from the ferry they have here to the airport, so they gave me money to buy it when I got on. So it's not like I have a ticket for exactly tomorrow to leave. I could get a ticket day after tomorrow for the ferry and...I've got to have some other money somewhere...Well, anyway, I'll look around to see if I have money for you to ride the ferry too, and then my parents can pick us up at the airport and take us back! They'll bring money for tickets for all of us."

"Sounds like a plan," Alessa said. "But---"

"But how do they throw that much money around? I know what you mean. They don't, really, but you can be an exception. I'll call them tonight and tell them to be at the airport by the day after tomorrow."

Alessa still looked doubtful. "It's too easy," she said. "Are you positive your parents will take me in?"

"Alessa. Yes. They will. I am 100 doubtless that they will. I can guaruntee it to you with everything in me."

"Alright." There was a bit of silence as Alessa digested this. She looked at Remy and asked, "Not that I don't appreciate any of this, because I do to the ends of the Earth, but why are you being so nice to me? Doing all this for measly old me? You barely know me!"

Remy smiled at her. "Well," she told Alessa, "because I can. But mainly, I really hate to see someone suffer for no reason when I can do something to help them. This is one of those cases."

A nurse came in then, holding a shot in her hand. "Time for more medicine," she chirped to Alessa. "Now, I warn you that this will make you sleepy." She gave Alessa the shot and left after asking how she felt. Alessa said she was fine.

Remy stood up to go and Alessa's eyes grew wide with panic. "Don't leave!" she cried. "I--"

"No, Alessa, I'm going to let you sleep. I've got to call my parents and stuff. Don't worry, I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon." She smiled at Alessa, and Alessa hesitantly smiled back.

"Don't worry about it," said Remy again. "It'll be okay." She noticed that Alessa was falling asleep and probably couldn't hear her too well by this point, but she felt like she had to had, "I promise."

And promise she did.


	15. Chapter 14

Author's Notes: The end of another story. I can't believe that it's come this far. I would like to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who has read this story and helped it struggle on. You guys are the reason that I kept writing it.  
This chapter was inspired by Norah Jone's song "Don't Miss You At All." I strongly suggest you listen to it, especially near the end. Also, I was inspired by Alicia Key's song "Sure Looks Good To Me." I suggest you listen to this, too. Here it is...The last chapter of Remy's story.

* * *

Remy was on a plane again, but this time she wasn't alone. Alessa sat next to her, at the window seat, looking out at the somewhat cloudy night. The plane buzzed along quietly, lulling everyone around them to sleep. It was nearly midnight, and they were tired, but felt wide awake at the same time. This was why they sat and softly talked to each other, because there was still so much to discuss. 

"This was Jeanine," said Alessa, pulling a photograph out of the small bag she had. That afternoon, she and Remy had traveled back to the Stella to get her few possessions. Two photographs and a small stuffed bear had been the only things she had. Alessa had discarded the clothes she owned, revealing and too tight, used often in her so-called "job," for a pair of Remy's sweatpants and a grey t-shirt that was a bit too big for her.

The photograph showed a woman of about twenty three sitting on the front steps of some house with a toddler on her lap, the toddler sucking on her thumb and staring at something nearby. Jeanine was, to underestimate it, beautiful; she had short, curly hair, dark eyes, and peachy skin. She looked a bit plump, but friendly; her smile was comforting. The photograph looked slightly aged, but it had obviously been taken care of.

"Wow, she's gorgeous," breathed Remy. "And that's you? When you were little?"

"Uh-huh," said Alessa. She was looking at the photo with a sad smile, a kind of sharp pain reflected in her eyes. After a moment, she put it back in her bag and pulled out the other photo. It showed her on a crowded street of Venice, a year or so younger. The silhouette of someone was right next to her, but it was hard to see their face. She was dancing to long-forgotten music and her hair was going all over the place, wide grin on her lips. Even then, so long ago, she looked stunning, happy, though Remy knew that she didn't feel like this on the inside.

"A street photographer took that," Alessa said. "He looked to be about my age, I remember that, but he looked so professional, with his hair combed back and his big camera and everything. He wasn't trying to make me notice - I guess he was going for a more natural look - but right as the flash went off, I saw him and smiled. Then, a few days later, I was walking around and he came running over to me saying, 'Hey, you! I got the picture!' And when I said, 'What picture?', he pulled it out and gave it to me. I've kept it ever since. The guy you see next to me is Clyde, he was all impatient and stuff that day, but I didn't feel like being so stressed out like he was, so I just pulled him along and got him to dance with me. It was fun."

"That's nice," said Remy. "You looked amazing, Alessa."

"Thank you," replied Alessa, smiling. "The main thing I like about that picture, though, is that it's the only one I have of when I was pregnant."

"You were pregnant?!" shrieked Remy. A few people raised their heads and looked grumpily over at them. She repeated, in a quieter voice, "You were pregnant? I didn't know that!"

"I thought I told you," said Alessa, looking at Remy with a puzzled expression.

"You didn't."

"Oh, well," said Alessa, shrugging, "I was. That was when I was fifteen...I didn't know who the dad was because, you know, all these men. All those times. I never found out, Remy. I didn't tell Trey, because I was scared of what he might do. Of course, I knew I'd have to tell him eventually, but I didn't know what to do with that...So he didn't ever know. I got to four and a half months before I had a miscarriage. Too much stress, the doctors said." Alessa choked a bit on the last part, and then composed herself again. "This was taken a few days before that."

"Oh my," gasped Remy. "I'm so, so sorry, Alessa. I had no idea..."

"Yeah." Alessa looked at her hands with mixed expressions. "But I wouldn't have been able to take care of the baby, anyway. It was for the best. I still kinda miss it, though. Miss what it might have been like." Alessa, perhaps without realizing it, put a hand on her stomach and bit down on her bottom lip. Remy, looking closer at the photograph, noticed a small bump on Alessa's stomach, and her heart suddenly ached for Alessa and the child she never knew.

"I'm really sorry," she said again. Then, trying to lift the mood slightly, she said, "My mom became pregnant with me when she was eighteen. It really scared her. She thought my dad was going to leave her or deny that the baby was his or something. Call her a slut and never see her again or things like that. If it wasn't for the fact that he didn't, she would probably still be living in the Stella with me. She had a really hard time with the pregnancy and with me in the first few months. I had really bad colic, and it was tough on her."

Alessa nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't have been able to deal with a baby when I was just fifteen. Or living the way I was, period." Alessa slid her hand off of her stomach and put the photo back. She looked out of the window again, and silence fell over them. Remy suddenly felt a surge of anger towards Trey. So Alessa had lost her baby to too much stress, had she? It was his fault. She just knew it.

"Well, we're a couple of sorry characters," said Alessa after a few minutes, turning back to Remy and chuckling a bit. "We just attract all the wrong kinds of men, don't we?"

Remy had told her everything about Dave earlier that morning. An abuser and a cheater? Remy could see Alessa's point. "Yeah," she said, laughing a little, "we do."

About half an hour passed, and Remy noticed that Alessa was starting to get a little sleepy. The doctors had told both of them that she needed as much sleep as she could get, so immediately she waved down the flight attendant and asked for a pillow for her. Alessa gave her a grateful glance as she put her head against the pillow and yawned. Shortly afterwards, her slow, rythmic breathing told Remy that she was asleep.

Remy, on the other hand, couldn't get to sleep no matter how hard she tried. She finally guessed, in the end, that she was excited to see her parents again and therefore, this was causing her to be wide awake. Even so, she couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated, as she'd gotten up rather early that morning. _But I can sleep when I get home_, she thought. The vision of her familiar, warm bed made her feel comforted.

Time passed oh_ so_ slowly, and Remy found herself getting a bit bored, something she always did when she was impatient. Just to have something to do, she pulled out the picture of Alessa on the street and looked at it. Remy thought of that baby once more, the baby that Alessa would never meet, and again got angry at Trey. She put the picture back and tried to think of pleasant things, like her parents and the hammock in their backyard and Alessa living with them...

An hour later, the plane started to descend. Finally. Once it had pulled into the airport, Remy reached over and gently shook Alessa.

"Alessa? We're here..."

Alessa mumbled something incomprehensible in a groggy voice, raising her head up to look at Remy, red hair covering her face. She impatiently pulled it away and blinked. "At the airport?" she croaked.

"Yeah."

They got their things and left the plane, Alessa stumbling slightly. Remy promised her that it was only one more flight, which she could sleep during, and a hour or so long car ride, also which she could sleep during, and then they'd be at home and Alessa could crash out in the guest room and sleep for however long she wanted to. Alessa just nodded tiredly at this.

Remy looked around for Scipio and Elaine. For such a late hour, a_ lot_ of people were in the airport, all smashed together in a huge mob that took up half the building. Finally, when Alessa seemed to be about to fall over and sleep on the floor, there was a shriek nearby that could only belong to one person.

"Remy!" Elaine cried, pulling her into a bone-crunching hug. She seemed close to tears, she was so happy to see her daughter. When Elaine finally let her go, Scipio hugged her too, grinning.

"Good to see you, kiddo," he said, ruffling her hair. Remy stuck her tongue out at him for doing this.

All three of them turned to Alessa, who was looking at the floor, the slightest of a shy blush on her cheeks. "So you must be Alessa! I've heard so much about you!" exclaimed Elaine, and she looked up. Elaine smiled at her. "Welcome to the family," she said, pulling her into a hug. Alessa hesitated, and then tentatively put her arms around her. Remy could have sworn that she saw the hint of tears around the edges of her eyes.

The next plane ride was even longer, and of course Alessa fell asleep during the way. Elaine, who was sitting next to her, brushed her hair out of her eyes in a motherly way, and Remy felt a weird type of pang at the sight. She hadn't realized just _how_ much Elaine cared about Alessa. Remy had told her everything about her, though, from Jeanine's death to Alessa's prostitution and Trey, and she guessed that she felt nothing but sympathy for the girl. Remy thought of how she would respond when she told her about the baby, and could imagine Elaine bursting into tears during the story. Alessa was really like a sister to Remy now, and, she guessed, a daughter to Elaine and Scipio.

The plane landed after a few hours and all four of them sleepily dragged themselves to Scipio's car to where it was parked in the airport's parking lot. They piled all of Remy and Alessa's things in - mainly Remy's - and they were off.

Now Alessa seemed to be more awake, and she talked to Remy, Scipio, and Elaine on the way to the house. The heart of the conversation was Elaine, and she went on and on to Alessa about the house and how glad she was to have her as part of the family and so on and so forth. Alessa smiled and nodded, the same thing Scipio would do every now and then. It was mainly Alessa and Elaine who chattered back and forth, but occasionally Remy or Scipio would cut in with something they had to say.

At last, they reached the house. Remy was _so_ glad to be home. She'd missed it, the familiarness, everything. Venice already felt so far away, like a slightly faded memory, blurry around the edges but still clear on the most important points. She'd brought Alessa back, and that was all that mattered. Dave, Trey, all of the other horrible things could and would be forgotten. They did not belong here.

After putting all of her things away and telling Scipio and Elaine good-night, Remy stood in the doorway of Alessa's new bedroom (which was really the guest room) and watched her crawl under the covers. "What time is it?" Alessa asked sleepily.

"Four-thirty," Remy replied. Alessa just nodded.

"'Night," she mumbled, as Remy turned off the light. "And..."

But she never finished that sentence. Alessa had fallen asleep during her speaking. Remy smiled at her. "Good-night to you, too," she whispered, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Remy didn't want to sleep. But at the same time, she just wanted to lay down. To think to herself in the silence of the night. She knew the perfect place to do this, and crept out into the backyard.

When she was laying in the hammock and looking up at the stars, Remy felt utterly content with life, peaceful. On one side was the past: Dave, Trey, Alessa's baby. But on the other side lay the future, bright and full of hope. She thought of Trey hurting Alessa, and knew, though she'd never been in the situation herself, that Alessa had thought her future would end so shortly.

But that was just the thing. The future for someone, anyone, could end tomorrow, in a few minutes, a few years, a lifetime. And there was no point dwelling on this, because then your future was already gone, given to the wind. You just had to live, to love. The past was the past, sometimes overpowering, but still, already gone, with nothing you could do about it. And the future you could do everything about, bending it, breaking it whichever way you wanted. You could make your decision about your life today or in a few years. Nothing needed to be immediate. Nothing needed to be perfect. The right way wasn't always the easy way, and it was up to you which path you would follow.

Dave had been a waste of time. Remy knew that now. But there were good things about him: his band, respect, nights spent talking about nothing and everything. If she thought about nothing but the negative parts, she'd turn into the same kind of person Dave was, and she didn't want that. Instead, she needed to think about the positive parts, growing to be tougher, better than anything she'd ever been. Because pain only made you stronger.

And then there was Trey. Remy hated Trey, but hate was what had driven Trey to harm Alessa. Alessa was safe now. Trey had been taught a lesson, and Remy hoped - no, she knew - that he wouldn't ever hurt another woman or girl again because of it. Leaving him behind was a good move. It had cleared Alessa's future, and now it was her choice of what she would do with it.

Remy looked up at the stars above, at the dark sky, and knew that her future, too, was blank. It wasn't too late to change it. Letting Dave or anything else terrible get in her way was a waste. And she wasn't in this alone. There was her parents, her friends...Alessa...

In that one moment, Remy threw her hope up to the stars, where it would remain forever, with her wherever she went. And though sometimes she would feel as though it had never existed, it was always there, building and building, waiting to show, to become.

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
